


Follow Me Back Home

by StarlitSky



Series: Follow Me Back Home [1]
Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: 90s Series, Action, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Mystery, Part 1, Romance, Sci-Fi, Suspense, alien race
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:26:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 101,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over and the trio heads home to Mars. Two years later they decide to visit Earth for fun, but instead they find a mystery. Their search for answers lead them to new friends, another world, new dangers, and things that will change each of their lives forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Nothing left_  
_It's time to leave_  
_Can you make it on your own?_  
_Nothing left_  
_It's time to breathe_  
_Can you follow me back home?_  
~Nothing Left;  Delain

###### Prologue

Throttle woke up with a throbbing headache. The funny thing was he didn't remember going to sleep tonight--or doing anything that would cause this sort of pain and disorientation. Funnier still? He had absolutely no idea where on Earth he was.

The room--or wherever it was--was dark. Or at least he thought it was. All he could see was a grayish-black haze. He was pretty sure he was inside somewhere, though. The air was still and it was completely silent, so he couldn't be outside. Not that his hearing was doing much better than his eyesight right now. There was a buzzing in his ears, and it felt like his skull was stuffed with cotton. What the hell happened, anyway? The last thing he could clearly remember was taking off with Charley and his bros for a hot dog and root beer run.

He could only figure that they had been ambushed while on the road, but that wasn't the only thing. There was an unpleasant medicinal taste in his mouth--a sure sign that he hadn't just been knocked out, but drugged.

He had no idea who had done this to him or why, but he was awake now--sort of--and he had to figure out a way out of here...as challenging as that was probably going to be. Aside from not being able to see a thing his entire body felt like lead, and his skin was tingling unpleasantly beneath his fur, making it hard for him to feel anything. He tried several times to get up before he realized he _was_ up.

He was standing--make that hanging--with shackles around his ankles and wrists. His arms were lifted above his head, and until he woke up he had been dangling limply from them. Wincing, he shifted his numb feet until his weight was on his legs; his arms and wrists ached in painful relief as the strain on them eased.

With his feet under him now, Throttle waited a few minutes as his senses slowly returned. The buzzing in his ears continued and his mouth still tasted horrible, but the tingling across his body was starting to fade. He experimentally tugged at his bindings and heard the clink of metal; whatever was holding him in place wasn't going to break, even if he had all his strength. Which he didn't.

In fact, he felt downright weak. And as he was moving around an odd warmth started to spread through his veins, a warmth that made him feel relaxed and mellow. The drug doing its work, no doubt. Throttle decided to be pissed about it later; right now he felt ready to go back to sleep.

He was just starting to close his eyes--it wasn't like he was using them right now anyway--when he heard a grunt to his left. Throttle perked his ears up and took a sniff, but it was no use. His sense of smell was so dull right now it was almost non-existent.

Fortunately, he recognized that grunt. "You awake, bro?" he asked quietly, in case someone else was listening.

Something metal rattled for a moment. "Yeah, I'm awake," came Modo's unhappy voice. "You?"

"More or less."

Throttle gave his head a shake, though it didn't help clear it much. "A word of advice," said Modo, sounding as tired as Throttle felt, "don't move the tail."

Throttle's tail was so numb he had almost forgotten about it. Despite the warning, he automatically tried to lift it. He felt a tug; it was pinned to the floor--by something with sharp points, from the feel of it. Nice.

He breathed a sigh, making the fur on his chest ripple. "Any ideas?"

"I'm workin' on it," Modo said with a yawn.

Throttle sighed again--and stopped with a frown. He'd felt the touch of his own breath on more than just his chest. Frowning harder, he wiggled in his shackles for a moment and came to the unpleasant conclusion that air was touching places it shouldn't. "Stupid question time: am I standing here naked?"

"Yup. So am I. Don't look, please."

"Wouldn't even if I could. Which I..."

A light suddenly dawned. Throttle wiggled his nose a moment, then let out another sigh. "Well, that explains it," he said dryly, referring to the absence of the familiar weight on his face. "Fill me in; where are we?"

"Dunno," said Mod quietly. "It's hard to see in here, wherever it is; the light is really weird. It's not bright, but it's makin' me squint. Everything looks foggy, like the place is filled with smoke, but it's not."

Throttle tried to think of who--or what--had both a place like this and a bone to pick with them, but he was drawing a blank. Not that his mind was working all that well at the moment. "Anything else?"

"Not much. Looks like some tables. Some odd tubes in the walls. There are some wires, some glass container, some computer hardware..."

"Sort of like a...lab?"

"Yeah, pretty much like that."

"Swell. Where's Vinnie?"

"Right next to you. He's still out, though."

"Any sign of our weapons? Or bikes?"

"Nope."

There was something else Throttle knew he should ask--something important--but he couldn't remember what. Before he could wrack his addled brain, he heard a swish in the distance--a high-tech door sliding open, from the sound of it. Quiet footsteps approached.

"Anyone we know?" Throttle asked quietly.

There was a pause before Modo answered. "No. He's stickin' to the shadows so it's hard to tell, but he doesn't look like anyone--or any _thing_ \--we've come across before."

Not very reassuring. "Can you elaborate?"

Another pause. "He's tall."

"That it?"

"Pretty much."

From somewhere in front of him, Throttle heard a shuffling sound, followed by something...else. He wasn't sure whether to call it a trilling or a purring or what. It was creepy.

"Don't be frightened," said a voice--an extremely strange, disturbing voice. It was high-pitched but had an underlying guttural sound, as if normal speech was far from the sound it ordinarily used to communicate. Who or whatever it was, Throttle was sure of one thing; it wasn't from Earth, or Mars, or any other planet in this particular galaxy.

And it had them tied up in a lab-like environment. Definitely _not_ reassuring.

"I mean you no harm and I have done no harm," the voice went on. Throttle felt an unpleasant chill as it took a trilling breath before continuing. "We are a gentle race on a most noble mission."

Vinnie suddenly groaned loudly. "A noble mission that includes chainin' us up?" Modo asked dryly.

"Most subjects are not very...receptive to the experiment."

"I'll bet," Throttle said darkly.

Vinnie groaned again. Metal clanked for a moment. And then...

"Two questions: where the hell are we, who the hell are you--and where the hell is Charley?"

Oh, yeah-- _that_ was the important thing Throttle had been trying to remember earlier. Where was Charley during all this? "That was three questions, Vincent," he noted dryly.

"My head hurts. Shut up."

"She is fine," said that voice straight out of a cheap 1950s horror movie. "I have taken all the samples I require."

"Samples?" Vinnie echoed shrilly. " _Samples?_ I swear, if you so much as pulled out _one_ hair from her head--"

"I assure you, she is unmarked," that warbling voice cut in. "I must go now, but you will be released in a matter of moments. You will find your effects in a box on the table in front of you. Your friend is asleep down the hall."

There was a swish of fabric, and then the mysterious speaker was gone, the door hissing shut behind him. Less than a minute later their shackles opened with a noisy click.

Muttering darkly under his breath, Vinnie kicked his bindings off and hurried by. Throttle moved more slowly, rubbing his sore limbs until he felt the cool metal of Modo's hand press something into his palm. "Your specs, bro."

"Thanks."

Only as Modo had told him, it was awfully hard to see in here, even with them on. He saw the tables, tubes and wires that Modo mentioned earlier, but they were all but lost in the murky haze in the air. The wires and narrow tubing that coiled through the walls looked like they were only supposed to carry power...but the row of large glass cylinder-shaped objects to his left, mostly hidden in shadow, looked like they were supposed to serve a different purpose. He'd thought he'd seen everything by now, but there was something chilling about everything he was looking at, it was so freakish and unknown.

"Come on. Let's find Charley and get out of here."

He didn't need to say it twice. They found a metal box--which had all their clothes and weapons, just as promised--dressed in a hurry and quickly located the automatic door. A few paces down the equally shadowy, hazy hallway was an open doorway that led to a small, grayish room. Sitting inside on a metal table was Charley.

Throttle half-expected Vinnie to make some crack about them getting here too late--she'd had time to put her clothes back on--but he didn't. Instead he hurried forward, a look of worry on his face, and put a hand on her arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice full of concern.

Modo was eyeing her with just as much worry, a look Throttle knew he was mirroring; Charley didn't react at all, either to them entering the room or to Vinnie's question. Instead, she sat with her head hung so low her hair hid her face as she fumbled to button her shirt, which hung partway open, giving a faint glimpse of the white of her bra. Vinnie looked torn between looking away and looking closer.

"You're not hurt, are you, Charley-ma'am?" Modo asked softly.

Charley gave her head a small shake and rested her hands on the edge of the table. Vinnie frowned as he slowly drew his hand away. "Nothing, um, _weird_ happened here, did it?"

Charley finally looked up as she slid her bare feet to the floor. Her green eyes were oddly bright. "Nothing worth mentioning," she said lightly--a little _too_ lightly, Throttle thought.

She fumbled to tug her boots on. "Let's just get out of here. _Now_."

No one argued. Sticking to the corridors that were lit, as odd as that light was, they soon found themselves outside. The building they had just exited looked just like any other condemned factory found on the outskirts of the city, facing an empty, weed-invested field that stood between them and the highway. Their bikes were waiting for them nearby, unharmed and ready. They hurried home without further discussion.

A day or so later, just to satisfy his own curiosity, Throttle took Modo--Vinnie was busy hovering around Charley, who kept insisting she was fine--and went back to the factory, only to discover that every last trace of alien presence had up and vanished. Nothing was left but empty, dusty rooms and broken pieces of metal equipment.

"That's messed up," was Modo's assessment.

Throttle couldn't disagree, but there was nothing they could do about it now, so they quietly went back to the garage. They didn't talk about the weird incident after that, and within a few days it was all but forgotten. Throttle carefully inspected himself and didn't come across any anomalies, a report his bros echoed. Whatever had been done to them didn't seem to have any permanent or noticeable effects. Thank goodness.

* * *

As he and the others rode to the edge of town in the quiet of the night, Throttle barely saw the road they were on as he clutched the handlebars of his bike with numb fingers. It felt like a dream--or a joke. They had been relaxing in the garage, goofing around while Charley worked on an engine when the radio had crackled. At first they thought it was nothing--mere static--but then they heard a voice. Stoker's voice, in fact.

"Time to get off your butts, boys; the tide of war has turned in our favor. Meet us outside town, because we're flying in to take you home."

The entire way, Throttle kept expecting to wake up, but then they crested a hill and there he was--with Rimfire, no less.

"Something must be wrong--they landed that ship without crashing," Vinnie cracked weakly.

He looked dazed. Throttle could relate. "This had better be for real," he warned as he dismounted his bike.

But the looks the two were giving them could only be genuine. Grins like that didn't come out of nowhere. They were both overjoyed and barely containing it, and Rimfire didn't even look annoyed when his uncle gave him a hug like he was still a shrimp. "What's it like back home?" Modo asked quietly. "Is it really...over?"

"It's not perfect," the aging general stated, "but it's getting there. That's part of the reason why we decided to come get you three. You get to help us finish cleaning things up."

"Gladly," said Throttle.

It was what they had been waiting for. To return home--and to life the way it was supposed to be. He kept expecting to wake up, but the crickets around them kept chirping, the ship looming in front of them didn't disappear. "You got anything you need to take care of before we go?"

Throttle gave his head a shake. "Nope. We can leave right now, if that's what everyone wants."

He turned to the two standing behind him, expecting them to make some kind of remark, but they were both silent. The mirroring looks of awe and hope on their faces said it all. "Well," Vinnie finally sighed, "it'll be a shame to deprive this planet of me, but..."

Rolling his eye, Modo nudged him, then looked over by their bikes. "Charley-ma'am?"

She had been so quiet all this time Throttle had almost forgotten she was with them. She was standing next to Vinnie's bike with her hands in her back pockets and was absently scuffing the heel of her boot on the ground, her head hung down. Modo's cheery demeanor drooped. "Don't be sad, Charley-ma'am. We'll come back and visit someday. Promise."

Charley shrugged and didn't look up. "Sure."

"Hey." Throttle reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. "We will. Mouse's honor."

She lifted her head then; her eyes were tired, and she didn't really seem to see him, even though she was looking right at him. She flashed a weak half-smile before it faded. "Hey, I'm just thinking about all the peace and quiet I'm going to have now," she joked. "I might actually start getting some real work done again."

"Well, when you're tired of being all good and productive, we'll be sure to drop by and fix that."

She shrugged again; Throttle took a step back as Vinnie suddenly came up. For once, he didn't look like he knew what to say. "So," he began awkwardly, fidgeting.

"So?" Charley echoed. She took her hand out of her pocket and thumped her fist against his shoulder. "Try not to break too much stuff when you're cleaning up Mars."

Before Vinnie could respond she gave a small wave, pivoted on her heel and started walking away. Vinnie watched as her slender figure grew smaller as it faded into the distance, looking like that wasn't quite the goodbye he had been expecting. Throttle had to admit, he was kind of surprised himself. But she didn't so much as look back.

Shrugging, he asked, "You two ready?"

"And how," said Modo.

A deep frown on his face, Vinnie cast one last look over his shoulder before grabbing his bike and following the rest of them into the ship. Then the door closed after them...and in moments they had flown up into the stars, leaving Earth behind.

* * *

Four months, Charley thought. Four months had already gone by since the guys left. Funny, she would have thought it would take longer than that to get to where she was now. But here she was, sitting in a stuffy bank, waiting impatiently to sign the final papers.

"And you're sure this is what you want to do, Miss Davidson?" the man sitting across from her asked.

Charley pulled herself out of her thoughts and forced herself to look down at the documents on the desk in front of her. She didn't want to look; she wanted to get out of here. She wanted all of this to be over.

She looked away from the desk and rested back in the chair she was sitting in. It wasn't very comfortable. You'd think one of the biggest banks in town would be able to afford softer furniture. "I'm sure."

The broker gave his head a shake, clearly perplexed. "I still don't understand," he said, as he had stated repeatedly since she first contacted him. What was his name, anyway? Ah, who cared. It didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.

"I get that business is rough, and I agree that you're probably better off cutting your losses like this, but the garage is worth a great deal more than what you're offering it for."

So it was. Everyone thought she was crazy to give it up for a fraction of its real value--and after all she had been through to keep it. But she didn't care about the money at this point. She just wanted to get rid of it. She needed to get rid of all of it.

"We've been through this," she said tiredly. "This is what I want to do. I just want it off my hands. I don't care about the price. So just sign the papers finalizing the deal so I can get out of here already, okay? Thanks."

The broker gave his head another shake--he clearly thought she was nuts--but he took out his pen and started writing, the tip of the pen scratching noisily on the crisp paper. Charley felt a sense of the unknown looming up--like a great void was opening up beneath her--but she didn't care. Diving into a black void and disappearing sounded like a good plan right about now.

As the pen continued to scratch, she let her eyes wander the room. It was classy enough, with real wood desks and counters and expensive fake plants that almost looked like the real thing. Off to the side was the waiting area, where a man who looked like he was in his late twenties was watching the small TV. Ordinarily it was tuned to something innocuous, like the local news or a cooking show, but the guy must have gotten bored because it had been changed to some action flick.

Watching so-called action films made Charley yawn in boredom these days. After all she'd been through, watching gunfire and explosions on-screen was beyond dull. Yet she found herself growing interested in spite of herself; most action films didn't include a scene with a woman wearing a bathrobe kicking the crap out of an assassin in her kitchen.

"What is that?" she wondered.

The man smiled at her. " _The Long Kiss Goodnight_."

Charley nodded absently and looked down at the paper being pushed closer to her. That was kind of appropriate, actually.

So long old life, she thought as she signed her name at the bottom of the document that officially relinquished her of all ownership of The Last Chance Garage.

I've kissed you goodnight.

###### Chapter 1

"So, what's the word, General?"

Smirking, Carbine looked up from the pile of papers she was rifling through. "No word, civvie. Just filing away old reports."

Grinning, Throttle rested his elbows on the desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Got some time to waste, then? I sure do."

After spending the last two years locking away prisoners and cleaning up all the scattered debris, there wasn't a whole lot to do lately.

"Nope. After this I've got to see about some new recruits."

"And after that?" Throttle pressed.

Visibly stifling a sigh, she stood and turned away. "Today's just not a good day. Sorry."

Throttle tried to suppress the frustration rising inside him and failed. You'd think with the planet being at peace now she would have a _little_ free time--AKA time for him--but no.

"Fine," he said, pushing away from the desk. "Guess I'll go take a ride."

"Have fun," the General called absently.

Throttle snorted quietly as he headed outside into the warm afternoon air. Fun. That was one thing the two of them hadn't had together since...well, since before the war. And when was the last time they had real, genuine fun in the bedroom, anyway?

The thought made him stop walking and think back. He thought for a good minute, but he couldn't remember. And if he couldn't remember, it had to have been a _really_ long time.

Knowing it would only make him upset if he dwelled on it, he pushed his wandering thoughts from his mind and headed to his bike--and then stopped again as something occurred to him. Maybe, he thought with a small smile, it was time to take more than a quick ride.

* * *

"Life is good, huh?" Modo noted, with a happy sigh. It was nice to lounge at home with his nephew and Mama for a change. Outside, people were moving around their daily lives, calm and comfortable. The local gardens and surrounding wild foliage was still sparse, but thanks to careful tending, it was coming along.

"Yeah, it's great," said Rimfire, sounding a little bored as he suddenly got up and straightened his vest. "I've got patrol duty, so I'll catch you later."

"All right," sighed Modo, sad to see him run off so soon. "Say hi to your sister for me."

Rimfire waved and was gone. Modo hung around for a few minutes more, listening to the sound of his mama's knitting needles clack--and then he heard the familiar sound of an even more familiar bike engine pull up out front. Grinning, he headed outside.

Throttle pulled to a stop and hopped off his bike. "Hey, bro. You busy?"

"Busy bein' calm and peaceful," Modo responded.

"That's nice. Want to take a trip?"

"Where to?" Modo wondered.

Instead of answering, Throttle just smiled at him. Make that smirked at him. Modo stared, feeling puzzled...and then it dawned on him.

"Yeah," he said, feeling himself grin again. "I think I'm up for that."

They went to track down Vinnie, which didn't take too long; he'd been pretty sulky lately and didn't drift very far from the residential district. "Hey," Modo called as they approached, "you up to taking a trip to Earth?"

Vinnie spun around. "You mean, go see Charley?" he asked.

"That too."

Vinnie raced off to where his bike was parked, whooping loudly. "You could show a little enthusiasm," Throttle called after him.

Snickering, the two of them headed to find a small ship they could borrow.

* * *

It was early morning when the three of them landed in a wooded area just outside Chicago. It was sometime in early summer, so the air was comfortably warm and fragrant, the trees lush and green and the flowers in full bloom. "Yup, something's definitely wrong," Vinnie commented after they landed smoothly amid the shrubbery. "That's twice now."

They left the unscathed ship safely hidden in the underbrush and rode off into town, riding over smooth road and passing by thriving businesses and crowds bustling along the sidewalks. "Looks like nothin's changed," Modo noted as the three of them turned a corner onto a relatively quiet street.

"One thing's definitely changed," Throttle corrected with a grin. "It's a lot cleaner."

"You got a point."

For once, Vinnie didn't have a remark of his own to add. In fact, Throttle noticed that he had turned abnormally quiet since making his wisecrack about their landing, and when he glanced at him, Vinnie looked distracted--maybe even a little anxious.

Throttle grew quiet himself as he looked around, taking in the sight of the slightly dingy but otherwise debris-free road. This section of the city always had less traffic, roughly a mile away from Charley's garage. That was where they planned to head first, of course. There was time to visit their other favorite haunts and grab some hot dogs later.

Only as they headed down the street that they all knew led to the garage, a completely different sight came into view. Throttle slowed to a stop, barely noticing that he had quit accelerating. "What the...?"

Beside him, Modo opened his mouth and closed it a handful of times, clearly at a loss for words. Vinnie was another story.

"What the hell happened to the garage?"

Throttle just gave his head a shake, too stunned to even think about responding--not that he had any idea what to say right now. In place of where The Last Chance Garage was _supposed_ to be standing was a generic gas station and truck stop. Just beyond the gas pumps was a small diner simply named 'Susie's.'

Modo was scratching his head. "Um...maybe Charley-ma'am expanded while we were gone?" he said uncertainly.

"Does that looked 'expanded' to you?" Vinnie spat, irritated.

Standing near the back of the station was a small, equally generic-looking repair shop. There was no name on it. Throttle didn't know who owned or built this place, but...he had a weird feeling that Charley had nothing to do with it.

"Come on," he said, dismounting his bike. "Only thing we can do right now is start asking questions."

The interior of the small diner was just what you would expect for a place just off the expressway; white-and-black checkered floor, red vinyl covers on the booth seats and bar stools, lamps with white glass shades hanging over the tables. A handful of truckers were sitting up at the front counter, sipping steaming cups of coffee. Sitting near one of the windows in a booth was a family who looked like they were on vacation, laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.

A short, slightly pudgy woman dressed in a mauve waitress dress and white apron was working behind the counter; she flashed a warm-as-a-mother's smile when she noticed the three of them standing by the door. "Well hi, boys, can I get you anything?"

"Uh, three root beers," said Throttle, still feeling a little dazed as he looked around.

Someone at the counter snickered, obviously amused by the order. "I'll take another hot coffee, Suze."

"You got it, Dave."

Three freshly-opened glass bottles of root beer were left on the counter; the three of them absently picked them up. None of them were sure where to begin so, as usual, Vinnie took the blunt, direct approach. "What happened to The Last Chance Garage?"

Susie looked up from the coffee she was pouring, her expression a trifle puzzled. "The what?"

"The place that used to be here before...all this was put in," Throttle explained.

"Oh--that. It was bulldozed after the owner sold it."

Throttle nearly sputtered root beer up his nose. " _What?_ "

"Charley-ma'am wouldn't do that," Modo said firmly. "She loved that place. It was her life's work."

"She wouldn't do it willingly, anyway," Vinnie added darkly.

Susie was frowning at them now. "Look," she said as she wiped a rag over the counter, "I don't know the details--I just run the diner. If you want to know all the particulars, you'll have to ask the company that owns the station."

Finding out what happened to the garage wasn't really the issue; what they wanted to do right now was find Charley. The rest of the details would follow. "I agree that she wouldn't give the garage up on her own," Throttle said as they left the diner--after paying for their drinks, which they almost forgot about until a sharp throat-clearing and an angry glare from a waitress reminded them. "Only..."

Only there weren't any Plutarkians left on Earth. But the only way she would let the garage be bulldozed was if something had driven her away, so it had to be something...else.

"It would be real simple if we could just ask her," Modo pointed out, "but we have no idea where she moved to. It's a big city--if she even stayed in the city."

Vinnie scowled for a moment--and then his expression cleared, as if he had just noticed something. "How 'bout we check the phone book?" he suggested, pointing to a nearby booth.

"That's a shocking display of brains for you," Throttle quipped.

Though in all honesty, none of them were really in the mood for jokes right now, so they all grew quiet as they pored over the hefty book anchored next to the pay phone. The book had been issued that year, but even though they double, triple, and quadruple-checked, there wasn't any mention of a Charlene Davidson.

"Well, that blows _that_ idea to hell," Vinnie grumbled, slapping the book shut.

"Easy, Vinnie," Throttle told him. "We'll find her."

It wasn't going to be easy, but all they could do was start asking around town, starting with other shops and mechanics. Charley was fairly well-known with local bikers; _someone_ had to know where she went.

They started with the small garage out in back, only to leave a little while later empty-handed. No one around here seemed to know her name. Undaunted, they headed back into town, where they spent the rest of the afternoon asking around repair shops and biker bars.

A handful of people perked up with recognition when they mentioned Charley, but they were just as bewildered as the three of them were over what had happened to the garage. "One day it was just gone," a burly, bearded fellow reported. "No one knows where she went, or why she had the place torn down."

Everywhere they went, they got the same story. The day quickly wore on and the sun was already going down when it suddenly occurred to them to try showing her picture--which Vinnie just happened to have. Naturally. Their close friend's image sparked more recognition, but earned them no further information.

Not until--just as they were ready to give in to their growling stomachs and take a break for a while--they absently showed Charley's picture to a man playing pool on their way out of a dimly-lit bar. The man took it with a look of interest. "The name doesn't ring any bells," he noted, squinting at the image, "but she looks an awful lot like one of the mechanics who works at that huge garage a few miles from here."

Vinnie immediately perked up. "Really? You think it could be Charley?"

The guy shrugged and handed the picture back, then leaned a hand on the edge of the pool table as he put his other hand in the pocket of his jeans. He was fairly young--early to mid-twenties--with shaggy black hair, worn, ripped jeans, scuffed boots and an old leather jacket adorned with zippers and studs. Multiple piercings glittered in each of his ears. "Don't know the name," he mused, "but the resemblance is pretty strong."

"Where is this place?" Throttle wondered.

"I can take you there," the young biker volunteered with a grin. "I work there myself. In fact, I own the place. Name's Alex."


	2. Chapter 2

_In the middle of the night_  
_I don't understand what's going on_  
_It's a world gone astray_  
~In the Middle of the Night;  Within Temptation

"He did say this was just a garage, right?" Vinnie asked, sounding a little dumbstruck.

Throttle didn't answer--he was too in awe. As they followed Alex down a long driveway, the sprawling complex that loomed before them was at least three stories tall. A plethora of sounds permeated the air; rumbling engines, electric tools, a generous amount of clanks and bangs. The sky was dark, but light shone through the rows of windows as brilliantly as stars. If that wasn't enough, the surrounding lot stretched for several hundred feet and was lined with row after row of vehicles. Cars, jeeps, massive trucks--and bikes. A seemingly endless sea of bikes, their color and chrome glinting in the light cast by the industrial light poles positioned around the lot.

Alex led them to a spot near the main overhead door, where the four of them parked and dismounted. They headed inside--the door was tall and wide enough to fit at least two semis--and into the main part of the garage, which was just as big and sprawling as the outside. Lit as bright as day, the room was packed with shelves, lockers and rows of parts, while bikes and other vehicles were being worked on as sparks flew. Multiple levels connected by narrow metal stairways and catwalks stretched out above their heads.

It looked like a mechanic's version of heaven. But one thing it didn't look like...was the kind of place Charley would like to work in. It was too big, too industrial, too informal.

Boots clumping as he crossed the concrete floor, Alex yelled over the din in the room, beckoning to a mechanic. "Hey, Rick!"

He went and spoke to a guy wearing sunglasses and a blue bandana tied around his head. A moment later Alex turned back to the three of them, held up a finger, then started for another section of the garage.

Vinnie and Modo seemed content to gawk for a few minutes more, and so Throttle let his own gaze wander while they waited. To his right was a long table covered in bike parts of every kind, most in various states of repair. He glanced absently down the line, admiring how the metal shapes glinted in the florescent light--and then felt himself stand a little straighter.

"Whoa."

Near the end of the table was a distinctly different kind of shape--a round, firm, supple shape. A rear end to be exact, the most perfect of rear ends anyone could ever hope to lay eyes on, all tight and snug in glossy black latex. That latex clung tight as a second skin, and the real skin underneath had to be as flawless as can be for the synthetic pants to lay so smooth and perfect.

The slender legs extending below looked every bit as perfect, encased to the knee in snug gray boots. The buckles glinted as their owner, who was bent over something on the table, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It vaguely occurred to him that he was staring a little too closely and with a little too much interest, but...it had been a while since he got to enjoy a sight like this. A little look didn't hurt...though he was starting to feel kind of warm.

The slender yet muscled figure with the perfect backside suddenly straightened, lightly tapping a tool against her palm, as if in thought. She had on standard biker gear--fingerless leather gloves, studded bracelets--and a black halter-top that was tied together in the back by a slim cord, leaving her arms, shoulders and back bare. From the look of her, Throttle noted dryly, it had been a long time since she left the garage and ventured out into the sun.

Either that or she was an albino. Whatever the reason, she had the most ghostly-white skin he had ever seen on a human being. There was a black bandana tied around her head and knotted near the nape of her neck, covering her hair.

Abruptly she set the tool down and turned around, hand on one hip as she rested her other hip against the edge of the table. Obviously his gaze must have turned a little heavy, because the smirk on her lips told him she had been well aware of his quiet gawking. Her other hand came up to tilt the sunglasses she was wearing down a notch, a slender eyebrow arching above them. Her expression clearly said, 'Okay, you checked me out. Now it's my turn.'

He couldn't see them, but he could plainly feel her eyes roaming over him behind her dark lenses. Throttle felt torn between turning away with feigned disinterest--and innocence--and giving her something to really check out...like an absent, muscle-flexing stretch.

Before he could decide either way, a hand suddenly clapped down on his shoulder and steered him away. Throttle felt both annoyed and relieved.

"Come on, tough guy," Vinnie told him, his voice full of amusement. "You're off the market, remember?"

Yeah, I have trouble remembering that sometimes, Throttle thought sarcastically.

They headed over to where Modo was standing just as Alex came back. "I don't know about all this," Modo said in a quiet voice. "I can't picture Charley-ma'am bein' happy in a place like this. No offense," he added, as Alex eyed him.

"I don't know about anyone named Charley," Alex told them, "but like I said, there's a girl here who looks a lot like the picture you showed me. Maybe she's a distant relative or something."

He turned and headed over to one of the stairways, yelling up to someone on the upper level. "I don't think Charley-girl has family her age in town," Vinnie said doubtfully.

"Me neither," said Throttle, "but it's the only lead we've got, so we might as well see it through."

There was rapid movement on the catwalk above their heads, followed by a male mechanic descending the steps. "She's coming," he reported, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

They turned to look as a woman followed the other mechanic down the steps, though she didn't head all the way down to the floor, stopping instead on a landing halfway down. As Throttle blinked at the figure above him, clutching a wrench in her hand, his first thought was, 'Okay, this is too much.'

Being struck speechless three times in one day was really pushing it. The next thing to cross his mind was that this was _not_ Charley. The person he was looking at was such a far cry from the girl they knew, he was starting to question Alex's sanity for thinking there was a resemblance. He glanced absently at the two mice standing beside him and saw his thoughts mirrored on their faces. They looked even more dumbstruck than he felt.

The woman looking down at them was much more muscular and toned than Charley. She was wearing low-waisted jeans, heavy boots, a clunky belt buckle and a top that was little more than a skin-tight black sports bra. The torso this ensemble exposed was tight and ripped--definitely not Charley's torso. The hands that gripped the wrench were encased in black gloves, and her arms were covered by a gray denim jacket decorated with pins and patches.

But never mind the outfit--her hair and face were all wrong, too. Her jawline was too hard-set, her mouth too grim. The lips that frowned at them were darkened slightly with an otherwise neutral lipstick, and her hair...well, it was definitely _not_ Charley's hair.

It was cut short, the edge of it almost even with her cheekbones, and textured a little with gel or something. It was also very, very blond. Platinum blond, with just a faint undertone of golden yellow. The eyes that glared down at them--darkly, Throttle felt--were lined with sultry, smoky black eyeliner, the lashes heavily mascaraed.

Throttle felt a jolt, like a buzz of electricity. Those eyes. They were the brightest of greens, glittering like jewels in the lights.

Charley's eyes.

"Hey," said Alex, momentarily breaking the spell this creature seemed to have cast on them. "Do you know these guys, Sam?"

The emerald-green eyes, which never left them, turned a little harder than they already were. "No. If you don't have anything else to bother me with, I have work to do."

Throttle felt another jolt. That was undoubtedly Charley's voice. Only...it wasn't. This person spoke in that same voice he knew as well as his bros' voices, only lower--much lower. There was something oddly harsh about her tone, too. It sent an unpleasant kind of chill through him.

Vinnie was the first to find his voice and try to speak to the Charley-ish apparition. Without any humor and a great deal of confusion he started to say, "Charley, what--"

"My name is Sam."

The words were spoken lowly, but there was so much force behind them, such finality, that Vinnie shut his mouth. The blond creature looked at Alex. "I don't know any of them. If they start causing trouble, get them out of here."

She spun on her heel and stomped back up the stairs, the metallic ring of her feet hitting the catwalk echoing through the air.

* * *

Charley stumbled up to the top floor of the garage and shoved open a door at the back, slamming it behind her. Luckily it was empty; she wouldn't have been polite about asking someone to leave.

"This is not happening," she whispered.

Her fists, which were tightly clenched at her sides, were trembling uncontrollably. Her entire body was. Gritting her teeth, she turned and punched the wall. " _This is not happening_!"

All her caution, all her careful planning--gone. Two years of effort destroyed in a single instant, and probably because of nothing more than sheer dumb luck. A mere chance that ripped apart everything she had accomplished, everything she had done to hide, to leave behind what she had been. She had done everything possible; destroyed her garage, moved across town, changed her appearance--even her very name.

And it had all been for nothing. There was no way to escape now - they were probably seconds away from coming after her. Of course they were. They never knew when to quit.

"Shit," she hissed out. "Shit, shit, _shit_!"

A rage of emotion tore through her, and she let it. She tore through the room, too, kicking furniture and throwing things against the already dented wall, yelling every obscenity she could think of at the top of her lungs. The wrench was still clutched in her hand; with a furious growl, she turned and threw that, too.

She let out a startled gasp as the wrench left her fingers--oh god, there was somebody _standing_ there.

But they darted a hand out and snatched the flying tool out of the air, a gesture so calm and casual it may as well have been a lazy swipe to a fly. Charley blinked a couple of times, quivering from head to toe as she took in gulps of air, trying to calm herself down.

Even though the room was dim, Tamerin didn't take her sunglasses off as she absently tapped the wrench against the side of her covered head, her other hand on her hip as she surveyed the room--the damage Charley had done to the room, to be exact. She didn't say anything; she rarely did. But that was what Charley liked about her. She kept her nose out of other people's business.

Still, Charley was pretty sure she wanted to ask her about this. It was hard to tell, what with her eyes hidden and her expression neutral. Which was similar enough to someone else she knew to drag up old memories--not that they needed any help clawing to the surface at this point.

"Want to talk about it?"

Charley snorted and ran her fingers through her short hair. "No. But do me a favor and keep those three away from me."

She and Tamerin weren't really close enough to be called friends--she wasn't close enough to any of her coworkers to call them friends--but she hoped that her redecoration job made it abundantly clear that she wasn't dicking around here.

Tamerin tapped the wrench against her head again. "I'm not sure what you want me to do," she said, her tone as neutral as her expression. "They look a little too fit to just be tossed outside."

Charley snorted and shook her head slightly, her eyes on the female mechanic's impressive muscle-tone. She had seen the ivory-skinned girl lift and carry parts that were a hundred pounds if they were an ounce, and push around men over twice her size when they were asking for it. She was pretty sure she could handle three furry bikers.

Okay, maybe not Modo. Throttle? Probably. Vinnie? Definitely.

"I don't care what you have to do," Charley told her, in the darkest tone she could manage. "Do _not_ let them anywhere near me."

Tamerin wrinkled her nose a touch. "I'll break them in two if you want me to," she offered, putting the wrench down. "As long as they deserve it. Seriously, Sam, what'd they do to you?"

Teeth clenching, Charley tightened her fists again. The tremor she had been trying to will out of her body started to return in a hurry. She stared blindly at a spot on the floor as she thought back on the past two years, remembering every little thing that she had done to bring her to this place--this void she had jumped into, which somehow still wasn't big enough to swallow her up.

Should have run farther, she told herself bitterly. Now you're going to have to live it all over again.

Because they were only going to leave again. Just like last time, when they left her when she needed them the most. But no--she had _wanted_ them out of her life. And they didn't deserve to come back now, to ruin the life she had worked so hard to rebuild.

"I don't want to talk about it," Charley said, her voice quavering a little. "Let's just say they hurt me and leave it at that."

A shadow fell across her gaze; startled, Charley looked up. Tamerin had moved so quietly she didn't hear her step closer. Her slender hand, which Charley knew was as strong as a man's, felt gentle as it rested on her shoulder. "Okay, Sam," she said, her voice turning soft. "You can count on me."


	3. Chapter 3

Modo gave his head a shake, still feeling a little dazed. "I told you," Alex was saying, "I don't know anyone named Charlene Davidson. The girl I thought she looked sort of like is Sam Davis. She came to work here a little over a year ago."

Modo shook his head again; that girl they just saw didn't look a whole lot like Charley-ma'am, even if she sounded a little like her, but...every part of him was telling him that it was _her_.

Vinnie seemed to be convinced, too. "I'm telling you, that was Charley-girl," he argued.

Alex gave a shrug and started walking away. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I've got work to do. See yourselves out, all right?"

It was clearly a hint to leave, but Vinnie stood his ground like the stubborn mouse he was. "It's her," he insisted forcefully. "She might look a little different--"

"A little?" Throttle said dryly.

"--but she still smells the same."

"You _really_ remember what someone you haven't seen in two years smells like?"

Vinnie shot him a dark look before darting around him and up the stairs. Sighing, Throttle followed, with Modo at his heels. "I don't have any idea what's happenin' here," he began uncertainly, "but if it really is Charley-ma'am, then maybe she's gone through all this trouble because she didn't want to be found. Not even by us."

Vinnie snorted. "No way. Somebody messed with her while we were gone--messed with her bad. And when I find out who they are, I'm kicking their teeth into their brain."

Modo really wasn't convinced of anything at this point, but the three of them headed over to the door they had seen Charley-ma'am--or whoever--pass through. It was standing partway open; Vinnie shoved it open the rest of the way and started to step through. Only someone moved into his way.

It was the same latex-clad mechanic Throttle had ogled earlier, still wearing her sunglasses and bandana. "My apologies," she said, hip jutting out to the side as she rested a hand on the doorframe, effectively filling the doorway. "Employees only."

Vinnie shook his head with a grunt. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said, stretching out a hand to push his way past her. "This is--"

His sentence was cut off with a startled yelp; the slender yet muscled woman had grabbed onto his wrist--and in less than an instant spun the white mouse around and twisted his arm behind his back. She gave him a shove, letting go as she stepped back. "Don't push it," she warned.

She turned and disappeared from sight. Muttering to himself, Vinnie took off down the catwalk. "Vincent, what are you doing?" Throttle asked wearily.

"This is a big place," Vinnie shot back, "so there's got to be another way back there."

He darted through another doorway farther down. "Should we go after him?" Modo wondered.

Throttle grunted and shook his head. "Nah. If he really finds his way back here, we'll just wait."

No one else seemed to care what they were doing, so they stepped quietly through the first doorway, which connected to a series of hallways. Around the first corner they found the pale mechanic--who apparently doubled as a bouncer--standing with her arms folded and her back rested against a wall, one leg bent as she propped her foot against the wall beneath her rear.

Her posture was relaxed, but Modo had a funny feeling that she was ready to pounce at any second, her toned body coiled like a spring. Footsteps scurried along the hallway ahead; she unfolded her arms and pushed away from the wall with a sigh.

Only as she started forward, there was a high-pitched yell from up ahead, followed by a hollow thump. The sound of drywall chunks trickling inside the wall could be heard for a moment, and then Vinnie was fumbling toward them, looking out of breath and shaken. "Sh-she--" he panted, clutching at his throat.

The shades-adorned mechanic arched a brow, then moved past him. Vinnie slumped against the wall, still clutching his throat. "You okay there, bro?" Modo asked in concern.

Vinnie made a strange sound and gestured behind him. "She threw a-- _that_ \--at me!"

The milky-white mechanic was coming back, and she was holding a disk-shaped object in her hand. As she drew closer, the jagged edges of a circular saw blade came into view. Modo exchanged dry glances with Throttle. "She _threw_ that at you?" Throttle asked.

"At my neck," Vinnie cried. "She actually tried to take my head off!"

An obvious wisecrack arose--something along the lines of them barely being able to tell the difference--but no one made it. The thought that one of their closest friends was now ready to decapitate one of them wasn't anything to joke about. And Modo was starting to think that Vinnie was right. Something awful must have happened for Charley-ma'am to be acting like this.

"Are you Vinnie?" the mechanic asked, her eyes still on the blade.

"How'd you know?" Vinnie asked weakly.

"This has your name on it."

This elicited a sharp laugh from the white-haired mouse. "Don't even joke!"

"I'm not. She wrote your name in permanent marker. Well, before she crossed it out and added...other things."

Frowning, Vinnie carefully grabbed the blade from her and looked at it. Modo did too, noting with considerable surprise that his bro's name was indeed penned across the metallic surface. Only a line was drawn through it, and underneath was a string of words...that his mind only vaguely computed as 'that-something-something-something.'

His mama had taught him never to use language like that, and he looked away as an embarrassed tingling touched his ears.

"Well, that proves one thing," Throttle noted dryly. "No doubt it's really Charley. And if I had to hazard a guess I'd say she's not happy to see us again."

"Or maybe just Vinnie," Modo pointed out, though he couldn't imagine why not. They'd all parted on good terms two years ago. At least, he thought they did. "I could try talking to her," he offered.

"No good," said the muscled fan of latex. She reached over and plucked the saw blade from Vinnie's fingers. "She made it abundantly clear that she doesn't want to talk to any of you. And if this is just the start of what she plans to throw at you, then you're probably better off getting your butts out of here."

Modo grunted and put a hand to his head; he was so confused. Not to mention hurt. Charley-ma'am was like a sister to him, and even if she was mad at him, too--maybe they had done something to hurt her without realizing it?--he still wanted to comfort her. He didn't want to just walk away.

But he could tell by the look on his face that Throttle was starting to think they should do exactly that. "We came all this way to see her," he noted, "but if she doesn't want to see us, then we should just go."

Vinnie gawked at him like he was out of his mind, then shot Modo a look full of challenge. Modo glanced away. "Mama always told me to respect a lady's wishes," he mumbled.

"Screw that," Vinnie snapped. "I'm not leaving until I find out what the hell's going on."

"I want to know that too," Throttle told him, "but the only one who can tell us is Charley, and if she refuses to talk, then there's not much else we can do."

"I'm _not_ leaving," Vinnie repeated, teeth clenched.

Scowling, Throttle took hold of his arm. "You can't stay here without a ship," he reminded him.

Vinnie smacked his hand away. "Go ahead and take the damn ship," he growled. "I'll find my own way back."

Modo snorted quietly. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Float home on a cloud of hot air that spewed from your mouth?" Throttle supplied dryly.

Vinnie balled his fist and looked ready to punch him; Modo hastily intervened. "Come on, we don't fight like this. We're all tired and hungry, so maybe we should go get something to eat and call it a night. We can talk about this in the morning."

"I don't need to talk about it," Vinnie snapped. "I'm staying and that's that. You two want to run away without me? Fine. I'm not leaving her."

Modo opened his mouth--and then shut it again. Vinnie didn't say anything else, but suddenly Modo understood, and heard the words left unspoken. Whatever had happened to Charley-ma'am had happened while they were gone. He had to admit that made him feel a bit guilty, a feeling he knew his white-furred bro was experiencing many fold. And when Vinnie said he wasn't leaving her...he meant he wasn't leaving her again.

Sighing, Modo looked over his shoulder at Throttle, hoping he had something to add here. But Throttle had disappeared.

* * *

While Modo was busy trying to calm Vinnie down, Throttle heard someone clear their throat behind him. It probably wasn't supposed to, but the low, sultry sound caused a slight prickling under his fur. He turned around and saw that the ghostly mechanic was beckoning to him. He lifted a questioning brow behind his specs; she beckoned harder, clearly impatient. Without waiting for a response, she turned and started down an adjoining hallway. After hesitating for a moment, Throttle followed.

The hallway itself was dark, but there was light coming through a window at the back from the parking lot outside; the muscular woman paused in a pool of light, her back facing him. The gesture absent, she reached up and untied the bandana from her head and tugged it free. A cascade of hair whiter than her skin spilled free, hanging to about mid-back.

Throttle drew closer warily; there was something odd about this woman, something he couldn't quite name. "What's up?" he asked, as she turned around to face him again.

She drummed her fingers on the waistband of her pants for a moment; Throttle made sure not to let his gaze drift in that direction. He had checked out below her waist enough for one night.

"I couldn't help overhearing," she began, "and if you're interested, I think I can help."

"With what?" he wondered, puzzled.

"Your flight plans. You see," she said, reaching up to pull her sunglasses off, "I was planning to take a trip to Mars soon anyway, so if you want you can hitch a ride with me. Leave the poor kid here with the ship and let him follow later, whenever he gets this out of his system."

Throttle blinked a couple of times. For a second he thought this was some kind of joke--they didn't have that kind of technology on this planet--but then he focused on her eyes. They were oddly bright, luminous eyes, colored a shimmering iridescent blue--like an abalone shell. A ring of smoky gray circled her pupils, while the rings bordering her irises were thin and black.

Humans didn't have eyes like that. Nothing on Earth did.

"You, uh, have business on Mars?" he ventured.

"Something like that. It won't be the first time I've been there, if that's what you mean."

Good enough for him. "I'll toss the idea at my bros," he said, though the thought of leaving Vinnie here alone with ready-to-chop-off-his-head Charley didn't sit with him very well.

Vinnie was all for it. "Remember," Modo told him firmly, "that ship we took has a deep-space communicator. Stay in touch, okay?"

"Yes, yes," said Vinnie, with an impatient wave of his hand. "I'll let you know what's going on here just as soon as I find out."

He looked ready to brave saw blades again, but the white-skinned non-Earthling was frowning hard at him. "Just so you know, she left a few minutes ago," she informed him. "And no, I'm not telling you where she lives," she added, as Vinnie started to open his mouth. "For whatever reason she felt she needed to ask me to, I promised her I would keep you away from her, so I will. I can't help what happens after I'm gone, but I'm not going to go back on my word."

With that, she turned and walked briskly down the hall and back into the main section of the garage. After saying a quick goodbye to Vinnie, Throttle and Modo followed.

Down on the first floor, their ride was talking to Alex. "You're quitting?" he said as they neared, sounding surprised.

"Yes. My work here is done. It was fun while it lasted, but it's time for me to move on."

Alex shrugged, and they shook hands before she turned away. "The name's Tamerin, by the way," she said to the two mice. "Pronounced like Cameron but with a T."

Throttle took the liberty of introducing the two of them. "Ma'am," said Modo, nodding.

Tamerin studied them both over her shoulder for a moment before leading them out across the lot. "Need a ride?" Throttle asked, as he and Modo mounted their bikes.

For a brief moment the snow-skinned mechanic eyed him, like she was considering taking his offer, but in the end she wordlessly joined Modo on his bike. Throttle wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed.

They didn't go very far before they were instructed to turn down an alley and come to a stop. "Uh, you keep an entire ship hidden around here?" Throttle asked dryly.

Tamerin was smirking at him as she pulled off one of her studded bracelets. There was a smaller silver band hidden underneath. "Not exactly. My race utilizes a much less bulky form of space travel."

She pressed a small stud on the side of the bracelet--a compact wrist communicator, Throttle quickly realized--then calmly said into the invisible mouthpiece, "I'm ready to get out of here, prepare the transporter for Mars. Oh, and add two more to the queue, all right?"


	4. Chapter 4

_I don't have more to say_  
_I don't have tears to cry anymore_  
_ut inside I still mourn for you_  
~Sisters In Melancholy;  Domina Noctis

Throttle had used cross-space transporters before, but it was generally kind of a jerky, disorientating ride. After she spoke into her communicator Tamerin lowered her arm and held still, so he and Modo did the same. A few seconds ticked by, and then all he felt was a faint tingly on his fur, almost like pins-and-needles but not as sharp. There was a slight warmth to it too, as if a comforting blanket was slipping over him from head to toe. A blueish-white light drifted over his eyes for a moment, and then he experienced the sensation of movement, even though he was holding still. When the feeling and the light passed, he was standing on Mars.

Blinking in surprise, he pulled his helmet off and set it on the seat of his bike; Modo did the same, looking equally impressed by the swiftness and ease of the trip. It looked like they were at the outskirts of the residential district, not far from the military base. It had been long after dark on Earth, but here it was in the middle of the day, and even though daytime on Mars wasn't as bright as afternoons on Earth, it still took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brighter scenery.

Straightening his specs, he glanced at Tamerin, who had her head bent over her wrist communicator again. In the darkness and shadows he hadn't noticed, but here, even through the greenish tint of his lenses, he could see that her white skin had a faint, almost dewy shimmer to it, like a pearl. Her hair had less luster, but the white of it was even more luminous than her skin.

Modo's stomach suddenly growled loudly; Tamerin straightened up with a chuckle. "Don't laugh," Throttle groaned, clutching his own stomach. "We haven't eaten in ages."

"And we never got to snag any hot dogs," Modo added, with a groan of his own.

"I prefer Eastern cuisine myself," Tamerin commented.

"East of what?" Modo wondered. "Chicago?"

She smiled. "Never mind. We'll just have to make do with Martian food."

"You hungry, too?" Throttle wondered.

"Not really, but you two look ready to pass out. I'm not familiar with this area, is there somewhere we can go?"

"Yes," Modo volunteered, a bit bashfully. "I'm sure my mama would be happy to cook somethin' for us."

Tamerin looked amused. "You still hang out with your 'mama?'"

"Practically worships the ground she walks on," Throttle teased.

Modo looked torn between squirming in embarrassment and socking him one. Tamerin simply chuckled. "That's awfully sweet...for a Martian."

Throttle gave her a funny look. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Tamerin stopped smiling as she eyed the two of them. "Well, you _do_ have a girl so mad at you she's throwing saw blades. To say nothing of what she did to the back room."

"But we didn't do anything," Modo insisted earnestly. "At least, nothin' we're aware of. We'd never hurt Charley-ma'am on purpose."

"I really don't think it was anything we did," Throttle added quietly. "Not directly."

Modo looked at him, his expression turning stricken. "You mean, you think whatever happened while we were gone was so awful she hates us now? Because we weren't there to protect her?"

Throttle shrugged. "Maybe."

Modo frowned sadly before turning back to Tamerin. "Anyway, we would never--"

"Hey, relax," she said, lifting a silencing hand. "I believe you. You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little wary. The last time I visited this planet, the locals weren't very friendly."

"Must have been rats you bumped into," Throttle guessed as the three of them started walking.

"Trust me, you can't mistake us for _them_ ," Modo added in a dark tone.

The smile Tamerin flashed was odd and thin. "Believe me, I'm well aware of the differences."

* * *

Charley's hands shook as she fumbled to open the front door of her apartment. She hastily darted inside, locked and bolted the door behind her, then went around latching all the windows. She was probably getting carried away, she noted dryly. None of them knew where she lived...and if they ever found out, they could blast a hole through a wall if they really wanted to.

The thought of them coming into her home made her head swim so hard her vision blurred. Dropping her keys, she switched on a lamp and crumpled into a chair. A tremor ran through her as she dropped her head into her hands, her throat and tired eyes burning suspiciously. Swallowing, she shook her head and stood.

No. She had cried enough. She wasn't wasting another tear. Not on him.

"Damn you," she whispered. Her jaw firmly set, she went to open the fridge and dug for something cold to drink.

Damn you, Vinnie. Why did you have to come back now? _Why_?

Well, he wasn't going to get to her again. He could try to break down as many doors and walls as he wanted; he wasn't getting inside her apartment. No matter what she had to do, she wasn't letting him anywhere near her. She wasn't going to let him take that away from her.

* * *

"Thanks for lunch, Mama," said Modo.

Throttle, who was sitting on the plush living room rug next to Tamerin, leaned back on his palm and let out a quiet belch. It wasn't hot dogs, but Modo's mama sure knew how to sate a mouse's appetite. Though Tamerin had politely declined lunch, she had accepted the tall drink offered to her and was sipping it quietly.

He was just about to ask her just what she was doing here on Mars when Rimfire dropped by. "I heard you were back already," he said, after greeting his uncle. "That was a pretty short trip."

"It was a weird trip," Modo told him grimly. "I'll tell you about it later."

"Sure. I've got guard duty, so catch you later."

"Be careful, boy," Modo called after him.

Tamerin, her eyes on Rimfire as he hurried out of the cave-like dwelling, lifted her slender eyebrows in puzzlement. "Boy?" she echoed. "Where I come from, that is no boy. That is one fully-ripe male ready for picking."

Modo made a strange sputtering sound. "He is not," he protested. "He's my sweet, innocent little nephew."

Tamerin snickered and finished the last of her drink. "He might be your nephew," she said as she got to her feet, "but he's also a sinewy tower of muscle that brings two words to my mind--yum- _may_."

Modo bugged his eye out and looked like he was turning color under his fur as he continued to sputter nonsense. Throttle tried not to snicker too hard; watching his bro protest the fact that his nephew was full-grown and desirable to females was pretty funny.

"Thank for you for your hospitality," Tamerin told Modo's mother courteously, "but I had better be going."

"Out of curiosity," Throttle quickly said as he hopped to his feet, "what are you doing here, anyway?"

Tamerin's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "I'm looking for something. Don't worry, it doesn't concern you or anyone else around here. I'll be finished with business and gone before you know it."

With that, she turned and walked out the door, latex-clad hips swaying. 

Modo shook his head, looking a trifle dazed. "There's something weird about her. Still, she's kinda...you know."

Oh yeah. Throttle knew.

"Thanks for all the grub, but I'm going to go see Carbine now."

Only when he got to her office, she was nowhere around. "She's really busy right now with something," one of her aides reported. "But you can wait here until she's done, if you want."

Having nothing better to do at the moment, Throttle grabbed a chair, propped it against a wall and leaned back. All that running around last night--although technically on Earth it still was last night--had taken its toll, so with a yawn he folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Before long, he was drifting off to sleep.

* * *

"Unbelievable," Vinnie muttered, as he darted down a dark street lit only by a single weakly flickering streetlight. He was still in shock over what went on tonight. His Charley-girl not happy to see him? It just couldn't be possible.

Something terrible had happened while they were gone, he was sure of it. And when he found out who was responsible, he fully intended to make them regret the day they were born. But he would never find them unless Charley told him everything, and he refused to give up until she did. Even if he had to tie her to a chair and tickle her until she caved.

Fortunately, he already had one problem solved; one of her coworkers had given him her address. He paused under the streetlight to pull out the paper he had written it on, squinted at it for a moment, then started checking the numbers on the nearby buildings. Ah, that had to be it--the small, boxy-looking apartment building on the corner. It was in a quiet, out of the way place, with shrubs lining the front walk and trees scattered around the yard. It was different from where she used to live, but it still looked like a place Charley would be comfortable.

All the lights were off and he didn't think it was wise to try to sneak in the front door, so he skirted up the fire escape. He had her apartment number too, but that didn't do him much good from the outside. Fortunately, the helpful kid he had talked to said she was up on the third floor.

Only after he mounted the fire escape stairs to the third floor, Vinnie scratched his head in puzzlement. There were two sets of fire escapes; one for the apartments on the left side and another on the right. There were only two choices for each floor, but he didn't know which was the right one. Shrugging, he tested the window in front of him; it gave easily, and he ducked nimbly inside.

Everything was dark, and he tiptoed quietly around the vague outline of furniture he could make out in the shadows. From somewhere nearby he heard the sound of water running; he peeked around a corner and saw a sliver of light shining from under the crack of a closed door. The door to the bathroom, judging by the steam seeping out.

Charley-girl in the shower? _Sweet_.

Unable to repress a grin, he tiptoed over to the door and opened it a crack. As he started to peek inside, he heard someone humming--someone with a thick southern accent. "That you, Honey?"

Vinnie scurried back out the window as fast as his little tail could follow. Easy choice now, he thought as he made his way over to the opposite fire escape. Only when he tried the window, it wouldn't budge. He tugged and pulled for several minutes, but it was no use; it was locked tight.

"Guess I'll just have to unlock it," he mused.

He didn't think Charley would appreciate it if he just broke in, but maybe if he just discreetly wedged the glass away from the frame she would never notice.

It seemed like a good plan at first, but after several minutes of trying to wiggle the tip of a bike tool he had on him between the glass and the window frame, the window suddenly gave way with a squeak, falling clear out of the frame and landing on the floor inside with a _whump_.

"Oops."

At least it landed on carpet. Vowing to fix it later, he somersaulted over the ledge and stood still for a moment as his eyes adjusted to complete darkness again. Well, it wasn't completely and totally dark; light shone in through the window from the street, and a light switch on the far wall glowed reddish-orange, illuminating the side of a white fridge. He was tempted to take a peek inside and scope out the snacks, but he told himself to save it for later. He had stopped to eat before coming here--he couldn't help it. It took energy to be this stealthy, something he freely admitted he sucked at.

Fortunately, there was enough light for him to see his way through the small living room he had rolled into. There was a sofa pushed up against the right-hand wall, with a large oil painting hanging above it and a glass coffee table in front of it. A faux fireplace was situated at the opposite wall, with small photos and nick-knacks lined up along the mantel. There were narrow bookcases on either side of the fireplace and end tables topped with lamps next to the sofa, though he didn't bother switching any of them on as he crept through the room and turned to the left, heading down a narrow hallway.

Following a soft glow, he tiptoed on and soon found a half-open door to his right. He peeked inside and saw that it was a small, square-shaped bedroom. There wasn't much to it; a desk with a computer, a bookcase, a stand with a small TV on it, a nightstand with a book or two beneath a lamp, and a bed with the headboard pushed up against the left-hand wall, situated so it sat just below the window in the wall opposite the door. The soft glow was coming from a light socket that was next to the window. From the thing stuck in the light socket, actually--a cloud-shaped nightlight.

Charley-girl slept with a nightlight? Too adorable for words.

And speaking of adorable...the sight of Charley lying asleep in that bed...

Well, that actually edged more into goddess territory.

Illuminated by the slightly bluish light, he could see that she was lying on her back, her headed lolled to one side on the pillow, one arm draped across her middle and the other resting on the pillow up near her head. The blanket was pushed down near her waist, revealing a loose-fitting gray shirt that was slipping down off one shoulder. Vinnie trailed his eyes over the sleeping form up to her face--and felt his breath catch and his heart tighten.

It was his Charley-girl's face, just as he remembered it. Well, there was still that hair, but...without the dark makeup, and with sleep soothing away the hardened expression...it was the face he saw in his dreams.

Barely aware he was letting out a quiet exhale of breath, Vinnie drifted closer to the bed, his eyes locked on that face, so soft and peaceful. He hadn't thought she would really change all that much in two years; the reality of it was as disturbing as it was alluring. But without the harsh makeup and clothes, and even if she still had her long, red-brown hair, she still looked different. His eyes trailed over her again, taking in the shadowed curves of her exposed arms, the shift of her chest as she breathed.

He always thought Charley-girl had a slammin' figure, but...it had been a touch soft. Not that he'd minded. In fact, he was still debating which he preferred; the softer Charley, or this toned, sinewy creature who lay sleeping before him.

Ah, who cared. She was unbelievably hot either way. His eyes drifted back up to rest on her face again, half-hidden in shadow. That breathless feeling came over him again as he reached up and gently laid a hand on her cheek.

I don't know what happened to you while we were gone, he thought to himself, but I swear that no one else is ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I'm around.

He ran a finger down the soft curve of her cheek, noting as he had in the past how oddly tantalizing the feel of skin with no hair worth mentioning felt to the touch. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, followed by, almost as an afterthought, the swell of her parted lips.

Her eyes suddenly opened. Vinnie held his breath again, and not in a nice way. Oh, crap.

He had visions of ducking saw blades again. But hopefully she didn't have anything like that stashed in her bedroom. Hopefully.

"Uh, hi," he said nervously, hastily pulling his hand away. "I hope you don't mind me inviting myself in like this. I just..."

I wanted to know you were okay. I want to know what happened to make you so nuts. I want to know how I can make everything better. I want you to talk to me, dammit!

Instead of saying anything, Charley just looked at him. She didn't move a hair except to blink once. Her eyes slowly left his face and trailed downward, resting on a spot past his waist.

Wait, was she checking him out? And below the belt at that? Damn, Charley-girl.

The thought had barely registered in his mind when Charley suddenly bolted upright and lashed her hand out in one fluid motion. Vinnie felt a slight tug on his thigh, like she'd plucked the edge of his pants.

Or maybe, he thought dryly as he found himself staring cross-eyed at the barrel, she had grabbed his blaster. And judging by the look she was giving him--and he used to think getting chills from a woman's gaze was a good thing--she was ready and able to blast his little mouse brains out.

There was a quiet squeaking sound as Charley's finger tightened around the trigger. "Get out."


	5. Chapter 5

Charley couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such utter, blinding rage. She had been expecting something low and underhanded from him, but sneaking into her apartment and touching her while she was asleep? And just look at him now, stammering and professing his complete innocence. He was so thick that he didn't even realize the kind of danger he was in. She knew that look he was giving her--he thought he could sweet-talk his way out of this.

"Now, I know you're mad at me about something," he began, his eyes lowering to the blaster again, "but--"

"Shut up," Charley ordered, keeping her voice low. She wanted to scream and shout at him at the top of her lungs, but she forced it all down. She'd gotten used to burying her emotions, but the effort still sent a tremor through her.

She shoved the blanket off with her free hand and slid her feet to the floor. Of course, the little white lech didn't fail to notice that she was only wearing a pair of black bikini bottoms under her shirt. Gritting her teeth, she bumped the head of the barrel so hard against his nose it would probably throb for weeks.

"Get out," she repeated, as harshly as she could without speaking any louder. She planted her hand on his chest and shoved. " _Now_."

At least he had the sense to move. Still looking as dazed as he did when she first drew on him, he backed up. She continued to shove, never moving the blaster from its target point, until they were out in the hall. She reached back and closed the bedroom door behind her. "Out," she said a third time. "And don't _ever_ come back here. Because if you do I'm not going to hesitate to put a window between those cute little ears of yours."

His nose--which was already turning red from the blow she just gave it--twitched a little. She could practically hear the gears of his mind turning...make that straining. Yeah, she thought dryly, you're only going to fully process one word from that sentence, aren't you?

"Cute?" he echoed, a grin threatening to appear.

Damn it, he could be such an idiot sometimes. Did she have to shoot him just to convince him she was serious?

It was extremely tempting, or to at least shoot _at_ him until he got the message. Instead, she did the next best thing; she grabbed his shoulder, spun him around and gave him a shove toward the front door--and when he didn't move forward like she wanted him to, she decked him with the butt of the blaster.

Not hard--she did _not_ want him passing out in her apartment. Then again, if he was unconscious maybe she could drag him somewhere. Though probably not anywhere he wouldn't find his way back from, she lamented.

The blow was enough to make him stumble, and in the darkness he lost his balance and sprawled to the floor. "Ow," he complained--make that whined. "Babe, that hurt."

"Good."

Looking like he was losing patience, he pushed himself to his feet and faced her. "Look, Charley-girl, I know something bad happened to you, but--"

"Vinnie, you don't know shit."

He pulled a face. "I would if you'd just tell me," he said, growing exasperated. "Did somebody blackmail you out of the garage? Were you hurt by something--or someone? Physically? Emotionally? Come on, what was it?"

Charley gave her head a shake of disbelief before leveling the blaster again. Behind him, she caught sight of movement in the living room--the drapes were moving in the wind. She clearly remembered locking that window before bed. Squinting through the shadows, she saw that the glass was gone.

So _that_ was how he got in so quietly. Nice, Vincent.

"You'll never know," she informed him, in her coldest, most emotionless voice. "You don't deserve to know."

"But I--"

His words were cut off by one of those shrill-yet-manly shrieks only he could unleash as she fired a shot just next to his ear, making sure the blast went cleanly out the open window behind him. There was a dull metallic ring as it struck a garbage can in the alley below.

Vinnie was gaping at her. "Have you flipped?" he asked shrilly.

"You better believe it. Now get out. I'm not telling you again."

He seemed to consider it for a moment before-- _finally_ \--edging back toward the window. He ruined the retreat by saying, "I'll be back tomorrow."

Growling in frustration, Charley helped him climb out the window via pushing him with her foot, then stomped back to her bedroom. After dropping the blaster onto her nightstand, she closed and locked the door--a lot of good it would do, she reminded herself acidly.

A second later she slumped against the door, her entire body trembling. She couldn't believe how close he had gotten tonight--what had almost happened.

No. It couldn't happen. She wouldn't be able to bear it. The very thought left her so shaken she slid to the floor and curled up in a tight little ball. Her eyes burned; she clutched her head. No more tears, she reminded herself.

But she was too worn out and overwrought to fight them, and they burned hot trails down her face long into the night.

* * *

Throttle awoke with a start. He suddenly felt like someone was in the room with him, but when he blinked his sleepy eyes and looked around, there was no one in sight. Frowning, he slowly relaxed again, but he didn't close his eyes. A minute or two later the door opened and someone he knew hadn't been around the base for very long--an aide named Vice--came in. "The General wants to see you," he told him.

Throttle thought he looked a little nervous about something. But then, he couldn't say he really knew the mouse; maybe he was always kind of jittery. "This way," Vice instructed, leading him down a hallway to a room near the back.

Waiting inside was Carbine--and a group of the top members of her security team here at the base. Vice quickly retreated into their midst. Throttle looked over the scene before him with a frown. "What's going on?"

He didn't like that look Carbine was giving him. It was her I'm-about-to-get-down-to-the-dirtiest-of-business look. "I just got word that a series of codes and other vital information was stolen," she told him, in her iciest, you-better-believe-I'm-General voice.

Throttle frowned harder. "What kind of codes?"

"The kind we don't ever want getting into the hands of our enemies. Pass codes to almost every major facility we have, along with detailed maps and statistics." She glanced at the group behind her. "We have reason to believe that someone plans to sell that information to either the rats or the raiders."

"Sounds like a job only someone on the inside could pull off," Throttle noted.

"Precisely."

She had that look again. And there was something else in her eyes, something cold and dark and very, very angry. Throttle felt a cold chill. "Wait, you're not suggesting you think _I_ had something to do with--"

Carbine snapped her fingers; Vice scurried forward, snaked a hand into Throttle's vest and then jumped back like he expected him to bite. He passed a square-shaped, palm-sized object to the stone-faced General. Throttle felt a feeling like ice spread through his veins. "That's _bullshit_."

"It's not a fraction of everything that was swiped," said Carbine grimly, acting like he hadn't spoken. "But it's proof enough that our informant was correct."

"I didn't take anything!"

Her hardened eyes shifted to him. "No less than three guards saw you. I don't understand what's going on here, but I trust what I was told--and the evidence we just found."

"And what about me swearing at the top of my lungs that I didn't do _anything_?" Throttle cried. "I've been asleep for hours!"

"Did anyone see you?"

Throttle jerked his gaze to Vice, who fidgeted and glanced down at his feet. "I found him sleeping when you told me to fetch him," he said quietly, "but I don't know how long he'd been there."

Well, thanks for sticking up for me, Throttle thought sarcastically.

"There's more investigating that needs to be done before anyone can prove your innocence," Carbine went on in her most emotionless voice. "And if you _are_ innocent then you have nothing to worry about. In the meantime, you'll have to wait out the investigation in a holding cell."

"Are you freaking _kidding_ me?"

"It's proper procedure," Carbine said in a quieter tone.

"Screw procedure! My word should be good enough, and I'm of better use staying out here, where I can help find whoever's responsible for this."

"I'm sorry."

Throttle couldn't believe it. This just couldn't be happening--again. But even as he continued to protest and swear to his innocence, his hands were tugged behind his back, and before he knew it he had been handcuffed snugly. One of the guards put a hand on his shoulder and tried to nudge him to the door; Throttle ignored him, his feet rooted to the spot. "Can you really do this?" he asked, his tone turning dull as he glared stonily at the one who claimed to love him. "Isn't there anything here that makes you think twice about what you're doing?"

Carbine's eyes turned as hard as her expression as she turned away. "No," she said in a low voice. "My duty comes first."

Of course. Just like always. He was a fool to expect anything else.

* * *

When Modo heard the news, he practically fell over. "They _what_?"

"I said, they threw him in a holding cell," Rimfire repeated. He looked frazzled and unhappy. "I told them they were all nuts, no matter what anyone saw or heard, but nobody listened to me."

"Well, they better start listenin' to somebody," Modo said dangerously as he cracked his knuckles.

"Watch it," his nephew said tiredly, "or they'll toss you in, too."

Modo was ready to let them see if they could--but he had already been tossed in there once before, so he decided to behave...for now. "Think you can take me to see him?"

Rimfire scratched his head for a moment. "I don't know if..." He let out a sigh. "Sure. Let's go."

A little while later they stood outside the cell, with a guard watching closely from nearby. Modo looked in at his friend with a sigh; Throttle was stretched out on a cot, one arm hanging limply over the side as he stared up at the ceiling. "I can't believe she's doin' this to you," he said quietly.

Throttle made a scoffing sound. "I can't believe she's doing this to me _again_."

Modo didn't know what to say. There was something very hard in his friend's tone...something a little frightening. Something had been broken here. Something that probably wouldn't ever mend.

"Look," he said uncertainly, "I'm going to do whatever I can to get you out of here."

"Don't hold your breath."

"Don't be like that, bro," Modo said with a frown. "You're innocent, so there's nothin' they can do except let you go."

"And if my innocence isn't proven, I can be executed for treason," Throttle added carelessly.

The thought made the large mouse's stomach knot unpleasantly. "That won't happen," he vowed. "Not while I'm around."

* * *

Charley didn't get any sleep after she chased Vinnie out of her apartment, so when the first light of dawn started to peek around the closed shade of her bedroom window, she got up to take a quick shower and change into her work clothes. After going through her normal morning routine, she found a plank of plywood big enough to cover the missing window and nailed it in place. She would fix it properly later; right now she needed to get to work. She needed to immerse herself in noisy heavy labor for a few hours to clear her head.

Only when she got to the garage, she soon saw that she wasn't going to be able to so much as concentrate today, let alone clear her head. Damn you, she thought darkly, you damn, stubborn, stupid mouse.

Grinning in that infuriatingly cheeky way of his, Vinnie waved to her from the upper level, leaning casually on the railing. He didn't try to come any closer, though. Finally--a hint of sense.

"Hi," he heard him call over the din of tools banging and engines rumbling.

Another hint. If he'd yelled 'Sweetheart,' she would have strangled him to death with his own tail.

Vowing to ignore him, she went back to the project she had been working on yesterday, pleased to see that she would need to use a blowtorch today. She gave herself a mental kick for leaving the blaster at home, where she had tucked it under her pillow before trying to get back to sleep.

Fortunately, the morning went by without her having to be added to this month's list of accidents. If scorching somebody's crotch with a blowtorch could be considered an accident. Come lunchtime, she put her tools away and wiped the sweat off her face. She was just pulling out her compact to check if her eyeliner needed touching up when Alex whistled to her.

"You hungry for lunch?" he asked her as she neared.

"A little."

"Think you can handle a special job first? You've been requested personally."

Charley felt her hand tighten around the compact. Oh, no.

But sure enough, she looked across the garage to the main doors to see that damn mouse waving cheekily again. His bike was parked just outside.

"Where's Tamerin?" Charley asked.

She had forgotten about her until now, but the thought that she had promised to keep any intruding bikers away from her popping into her head reminded her.

Alex's demeanor drooped a little. "She quit last night. A shame, really. She was good. Not to mention seriously easy on the eyes."

Charley gave a start. "She quit? Just like that?"

Alex shrugged. "Came as a surprise to me, too. But life goes on."

 _Yes_ , Charley wanted to holler. That was what she wanted to do. Get on with her life--the life she had made _without_ infuriatingly persistent Martian rodents.

Well, she would just have to figure out a way to drive him off permanently.

Turning away from Alex, she returned to her workbench and took a moment to move her lunch from her lunchbox to her toolbox before heading out front, purposely ignoring the eager look Vinnie gave her as she passed. She went over to his bike and gave it a split-second look over.

"Only thing wrong here is its rider is a blowhard," she assessed. "I recommend a lobotomy. Or in your case a brain implant."

"Ouch. That's cold, Sweetheart."

Charley smirked a little as she casually leaned against the wall by the door and set her toolbox down on top of a concrete bollard. She could feel that darn mouse's eyes on her, but she continued to ignore him as she took out a glass bottle and popped it open.

"Got any root beer in there?" Vinnie asked.

"No. I only drink coke."

"Since when?"

"Since that overly sweet, bubbly drink is only for kids and the immature," she snapped, and took a long drink. She decided not to mention that she was drinking cherry-vanilla flavor.

Silence fell after that, and she continued to sip between bites of her sandwich. "This is nice," Vinnie suddenly commented.

For the first time since she saw him on the catwalk, Charley looked at him squarely. "What's nice?" she asked suspiciously.

He grinned. "You not throwing things at me."

She was sorely tempted to chuck her bottle at him for that, but she was thirsty and she needed the energy. After scowling at him, she went back to her lunch, which she munched down in record time. "No loitering," she told him as she breezed back inside. 

"Hey, it's cool. I know where you live, so it's not like you can get away."

Charley hefted the empty bottle in her hand, then turned and whipped it with all her might. Vinnie ducked with a squawk. "And you think _I'm_ the one who needs my brain checked?" he cried as glass shattered all over the drive.

Charley just glared with her darkest scowl. "Come anywhere near me again, and next time I won't miss."


	6. Chapter 6

_Now I'm fighting this war since the day of the fall_  
_And I'm desperately holding on to it all_  
_But I'm lost_  
_I'm so damn lost_  
~A Shot In The Dark;  Within Temptation

Throttle must have dozed off in spite of everything, because he suddenly opened his eyes to find that everything had turned completely quiet. He turned his head without getting up and saw that the stern-faced guard, the picture of diligence, had fallen asleep standing up at the end of the row of cells. Throttle looked back up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Carbine had stopped by shortly after Modo and Rimfire left. She told him, quite frankly, that the codes had yet to be found. She went on to add that if they were found in someone else's possession, someone who turned out to be working alone, he was free to go. Otherwise...

He didn't bother to protest anymore. To argue the fact that he had absolutely nothing to gain by selling anyone out--which he of course didn't. What could he possibly expect to get from something like this? Even if he was paid a tremendous amount, there wasn't anywhere he could go and hide--not without underground connections, which he definitely didn't have. And that _anyone_ believed that he did, no matter what anyone claimed to have seen...

It was all so stupid he kept expecting to wake up. It felt too surreal, too insane to be his reality anymore, but he continued to lie here in empty silence. Nothing changed.

The guard let out a snort in his sleep and went on dreaming. Throttle sighed again and closed his eyes tight...and thought he heard a footstep. For a moment he thought he was imagining it, but the soft sound continued, slowly coming nearer. Whoever it was, they had to be female, since even if he was barefoot a male could never step that lightly. In fact, if he didn't have a mouse's hearing, he doubted he would have noticed.

Definitely not Carbine, then. Barefoot or not, she always walked like a general. Always on duty, that one. He scoffed quietly and squeezed his lids together until he saw color spots.

The feather-light steps paused outside his cell. "Are you okay?" a voice asked, almost whisper-quiet.

Surprised, Throttle opened his eyes and sat up. Tamerin stood outside his cell, one hand resting on her bare shoulder. Her other hand was partly outstretched, as if she was thinking about touching one of the bars. "Careful," he warned. "They're electrified."

Tamerin briefly passed her fingers through the air, as if she was feeling something he couldn't see. "I know."

She glanced over at the sleeping guard, then looked at him again, folding her arms like she was cold even though it was as warm in here as anywhere. "I came as soon as Rimfire told me what happened. I can't believe she--I mean, aren't the two of you...?"

She gestured vaguely. Throttle snorted and looked away, his gaze vaguely focusing on a stain on the cot. "Doesn't matter."

"Well, it should. What's happening here is unthinkable to me."

Throttle didn't know what kind of world she came from, but he was starting to think that she was a little naive. "It doesn't matter," he said again. "None of it does. I'm guilty until proven innocent. Nothing that came before counts. And no one is willing to take my word that I didn't do anything."

Well...Modo and Rimfire did, and if he were here, Vinnie would too. But their word apparently meant nothing. Rimfire had even been relieved of guard duty until further notice due to his speaking out.

"Whatever happened here happened while I was away," he went on, mostly to himself. "It's stupid to even think I was involved. Yet here I am, because no one believes me."

No one whose opinion counted around here, anyway.

Silence fell after that, so heavy that Throttle thought Tamerin had left. When he finally looked up again, he was surprised to see her still standing there outside his cell, arms still wrapped around herself. Her abalone-blue eyes almost looked moist as she gazed at him, a ghost of a smile on her face.

" _I_ believe you."

* * *

After Charley pitched her soda bottle at him, Vinnie decided to stay away from the garage for the rest of the day. He paced the sidewalk outside her apartment building for a while, trying to come up with some kind of plan--and then it hit him. Grinning at his own brilliance, he ran to the nearest restaurant and ordered a classy dinner of hot dogs and chicken wings to go. He made sure to get separate cups of root beer and coke, because even if he didn't understand Charley-girl's new tastes, he would respect them.

He hurried back to the apartment, where he leaned against the wall by the front door with his arms folded and waited some more for Charley to appear. When she did, he saw her visibly stiffen, though she kept on walking. "You look tired," he noted--and she honestly did, making his rehearsed line sincere. "Good thing I brought dinner, huh? Come on; let's have a relaxing picnic in the park."

Charley brushed by him and went inside. "Hey," he muttered, snatching up the takeout bags at his feet and scurrying in after her before the front door swung shut. "I'm not going to eat all this myself."

"Tough shit."

"Jeez, is that your new favorite word or what?"

"Bite my ass."

Vinnie snickered at that one. "Sweetheart, if you hold still a second I will _gladly_ comply."

Charley whirled on him, and the next thing he knew she had planted her fist on his nose. He recoiled with a yelp, dropping the takeout bags in the process. "Aw, man," he grumbled, fondling the aching organ--which had never quite stopped hurting from when she decked him last night.

Charley took advantage of his distraction and was locked in her apartment before he could catch up. "Okay, so it might not be as nice to eat off the floor instead of a blanket, but this night can still be salvaged," he called through the locked door.

"Vincent, will you just _go away_?"

"Not until you tell me why I should," he shot back.

This was getting beyond frustrating and he was more than ready to just kick the door down...but he hadn't forgotten that she still had his blaster. And he didn't really trust her not to do _anything_ that was crazy at this point.

"Would you just talk to me?" he said, trying to peer in through the peephole.

When he didn't get a response, he drummed his fingers on the door for a moment. "I'm not going anywhere," he called out. "I'll sleep out here in the hall if I have to. Then when you trip over me when you leave for work, I'm going to tackle you and pin you until you tell me what's going on."

Okay, telling her his whole plan probably wasn't very smart, but he didn't think well when he was frustrated. He heard a sigh from somewhere inside the apartment, followed by the clink of dishware. "Would you just leave me alone already, you damn mouse?"

She had a few things more to add after that--mostly a string of expletives that made him blink for several moments. "Charley-girl, you have been hanging out with the wrong kind of biker for _way_ too long."

There was a bang, followed by a strange sound. Almost like a muffled sob. Vinnie felt a tightening inside him; was she crying?

"Charley-girl, are you okay?" he asked softly. "Please, would you just tell me what this is all about?"

"No," Charley suddenly shouted, her voice nearly hysterical. "There's no point and you know it! So just go away and _leave me alone_!"

Another muffled sob. Vinnie felt his heart twist in his chest. "Charley-girl, the point of you talking to me is that once I know what's wrong, you know I'll fix it for you. Whatever it is, I swear I'll fix it, so please--"

A bang on the other side of the door made him jump. "You won't," Charley told him through the door, her voice dark and fierce. "And you want to know why?"

Vinnie waited, ears tingling. "Tell me," he pleaded.

"Because you'll just leave me again. It doesn't matter what I say or do, you're just going to leave. And don't lie and tell me you won't!"

There was a soft thump, followed by the sound of a body sliding down the length of the door. Charley began to sob freely. "You won't ever stay," she said, voice breaking. "You won't!"

Vinnie slowly closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the door. Each one of her sobs nearly made him flinch. "I thought so," he said quietly. "I wasn't here when you needed me and now you hate me for it. I can't say I blame you. But I'm still not going to leave you alone right now."

Not if that was exactly what she was afraid of. If she wanted him to stay, then that was exactly what he was going to do. And he knew just what to do to prove it to her.

* * *

Throttle wasn't sure what time it was when the guard woke him up and took him out of his cell. He could only hope that the real culprit--or culprits--had been found and he was free to go...but the fact that he was shackled first didn't do much to raise his hopes.

"I thought you should see this," Carbine told him as the guard shoved him into the same back room as before. "I thought I should at least give you the chance to explain yourself."

She was facing a row of monitors along the wall, arms folded and her back to him. She pointed to one of the screens. "It seems that our thief was caught on camera," she explained.

Throttle looked--and saw himself. It was impossible, but it was his likeness down to the last hair, cracking open a vault--using a password only someone who worked in the compound could know--and then pocketing the codes. Carbine turned from the monitor and faced him, her mouth a grim line. "What do you say now?"

"The same thing I said before," he told her calmly, coolly. "I didn't do anything."

The General gave her head a shake and rubbed between her eyes for a moment. She started to say something--and then Throttle felt a soft touch on one of his hands, still secured behind his back. He looked and saw Tamerin brush by him; Carbine stared at her in obvious surprise. "I don't know who you are or where you came from," she snapped, "but you're not allowed in here."

"My apologies," Tamerin said, in a soft voice. An odd voice; she sounded distant and a little clueless. Not at all the low yet confident tone she usually spoke with. "It's just that I've never seen how military operates on other worlds before, and I'm curious. What is it you're doing here?"

Carbine grunted and ran a hand over her black hair. "What I'm doing here is trying to solve the mystery to a crime," she grumbled.

"I thought you already caught the thief," Tamerin pointed out.

"We weren't sure. But now..."

She turned to look at the monitor again; Tamerin looked with her. On the screen was a frozen image of the thief, hand thrust in the vault. "What's the next course of action?" the ghostly-skinned alien wondered. "Execution?"

"If there seems to be no other course we can take...yes. After a hearing."

Tamerin shrugged, her voice suddenly returning to normal. "Why wait?"

Throttle gave a start. So did Carbine. "What?" she asked, clearly taken aback.

"If you already have all the hard evidence you need, what's the point in prolonging it? Do it yourself."

Throttle felt his eyes bulge behind his lenses. "Um..."

Tamerin cast a glance at him over her shoulder for the briefest of moments. Just long enough for him to catch the look in her eye, which said the same thing her touch earlier had.

 _Trust me_.

Carbine looked flustered--like she didn't know how to respond. "But that's not how--"

"Oh, come on," Tamerin sniped, her tone suddenly turning cruel. "You telling me you don't have what it takes? My, some all-star general you are, huh?"

While Carbine sputtered in stunned protest, Tamerin reached out and cleanly pulled the General's blaster from her holster, hastily stepping back before anyone realized what she had done. The guards caught on in an instant and were already reaching for their own weapons, but she had already aimed the blaster at her target; Throttle's head.

Okay, Missy, Throttle thought dryly as the cold feel of the barrel poked into the fur near his ear, this had better be a _damn_ good bluff.

Honestly, he had no clue. He didn't know anything about Tamerin or who she was, or where she had come from. For all he knew, _she_ was the one behind the theft.

"Well?" Tamerin pressed. "If you're not going to do it, I will."

Throttle heard the trigger being squeezed. And then he saw something, something behind the row of stunned expressions of the guards, so subtle that he barely caught it. Vice was standing behind Carbine, ever the diligent little follower. And he was smiling.

What followed happened so fast he was barely able to distinguish one motion from the next. The blaster pointing at his head was jerked away and a shot was fired--and Vice flew back with a shriek. For a moment no one moved, too shocked to react. Then Vice tried to get up, the charred wound on his chest releasing something that looked like blue-black smoke. Tamerin took a step forward and fired again; he recoiled with another shriek--an ear-splitting, screeching sound no mouse could possibly make.

His back hit the wall and his body suddenly twisted, turning liquidy and grotesquely misshapen--like he was coming apart. He oozed down to the floor with an angry gurgle; Tamerin calmly stood over the writhing form and fired a final time. The oozing mass dissolved into nothing more than a spout of black smoke and whispered away. Tamerin turned and tossed the blaster back to one extremely confused Carbine, the gesture absent. "Thanks, I've been tracking this guy for months."

She knelt and picked something up off the floor, then looked up at the ring of guards, who were all quietly gawking at her. "They're shape-shifters," she said, in way of explanation. "They can mimic the appearance of anyone or anything they choose, particularly when they want something that someone won't hand over willingly. It wasn't anything personal; it just so happened that a handful out in the desert had some information that he wanted, and they agreed to give it in exchange for some sensitive data stored here."

She straightened up and held out her hand, palm up. "I believe you were looking for these."

Still looking dazed, Carbine accepted the pile of codes and computer chips mechanically. Tamerin turned and breezed out of the room. "I'm on my way back," Throttle heard her say into her communicator. "Prepare the transporter."

Carbine shot the guards a look; they immediately scattered and fled the room. After they were gone, she quietly unlocked Throttle's handcuffs. Glancing down, she started to speak, but he cut her off. "Don't."

She looked at him, black eyebrows lifted. "Don't what?"

"Don't apologize. Those aren't the words that are going to fix this."

Puzzled, she studied him for a moment. "Okay...what words should I say?"

He gave his head a small shake. "They sound a lot like 'it's over.'"

Carbine stared, clearly wondering if he was serious. "But--"

"Forget it. The first time was different--though I'm honestly having a hard time remembering why--but this? This should never have happened. Hasn't anyone ever told you that a relationship can't survive without trust?"

He gave his head another shake. "It's over. It's so over between us we may as well have not even existed to begin with."

He paused then, waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn't sure; one final chance to make all this go away?

Instead, she turned away so her back faced him, absently fingering the pile of chips still in her hand. "If that's the way you want it."

And just like that, everything they ever shared, everything they'd been through together - gone, like a candle being snuffed out. Again, he was a fool for expecting anything else. Without another word, Throttle stormed out. There wasn't a word left in any language that was worth saying at this point. There was only one thing to do right now. Put a little distance between him and her...and maybe put a little ice around his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

Charley wasn't sure how long she lay there next to the front door, crying even harder than she did last night. When she finally forced herself to stop, everything was quiet, both inside the apartment and out. Vinnie was gone, but she knew the relief she felt was short-lived. He would come back eventually. He would always come back.

The thought made her laugh bitterly. No, he would only come back until she accepted him, let him back into her life. Then he would disappear again. Oh god, why did she have to tell him that? She had said that he didn't deserve to know, and he didn't. He could never know. She wouldn't let him take that away from her.

Not hungry anymore, she skipped dinner and went right to bed after doing her nightly routine. She curled up under the blanket, hugging the pillow to herself, her hand absently slipping beneath it to clutch the blaster. He wasn't getting near her tonight. She wouldn't allow it.

She eventually drifted off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion and had dreams that were memories from the past--memories she didn't want any part of. She tried to fight them back, to will them away, but they just kept returning in another form. She felt the blaster slide out of her fingers as she was slipping into another dream--and jerked awake.

Something was looming over her in the blueish glow of the nightlight. She opened her mouth to scream--only to have a furry hand gently but firmly press over her lips. Muscles bulged in strong arms as they gathered her up and lifted her effortlessly. A tail coiled around her waist, clamping her down and making sure she didn't go anywhere.

She still tried. She thrashed and kicked and screamed out behind the hand, but it was no use. As strong as she'd tried to make herself, it still wasn't enough.

"Easy, sweetheart," Vinnie told her, as he carried her to the open living room window. He must have pried the board off somehow without waking her. "I'm just going to show you something, and then I'll tuck you right back in bed. I'll even sing you to sleep."

Charley made as best a snorting sound as she could with her mouth still covered. She did _not_ want to be subjected to his idea of a singing voice.

Yes, she did. She wanted to hear him sing and laugh and joke just like he used to. She wanted it all to be the way it used to be. She wanted to give in and just let herself be held like this, to let this awkward embrace turn into something else.

You can't, she told herself severely, struggling again as he carried her down to his bike. You hate him. _I hate you_.

Charley was glad he kept her mouth covered as he placed her on his lap after he'd mounted the bike, not moving it until after he was streaking down the block. It gave her the excuse of not wanting to shout over the roar of the engine, sparing her from saying those words. Because she was pretty sure he would know just as well as she did that they were a lie.

The dimly lit streets they wove through were all but empty, to her relief. She _was_ out here in nothing but her undies and an old t-shirt, after all. The air was cold on her bare limbs, but she didn't let herself do what she had discreetly done countless times in the past; settle against the subtle warmth a furred body provided.

Instead she sat rigid and motionless, until they came to a stop just outside of town, in a heavily wooded area. Vinnie wordlessly got down and set her to her feet on the cold, damp grass. A shiver ran through her, but she ignored it as she looked around. "Okay, you kidnapper," she muttered, "we're here. Now what is it you want to show me?"

She couldn't even begin to speculate what he planned to do out here in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night. Most of the time Vinnie's ideas made sense to him and him alone.

She expected wisecracks, or at least a smug smirk, but his expression was oddly serious as he pointed to a clump of underbrush. Scowling, Charley looked and saw a small, tentatively concealed spacecraft. "Um...so?"

"That's how we got here," he explained, "and how we planned to go home. The guys found another ride and left already, but I'm supposed to fly out of here with this."

Charley failed to see the significance. "I repeat--so?"

"So," he echoed slowly, that familiar expression he got whenever he was about to do something destructive creeping over his face, "you better get ready to take cover."

Not understanding what he meant, Charley watched warily as he strolled casually into the ship. For the next minute or so there was silence...and then a quiet humming started to thrum. Before long it wasn't so quiet--the entire ship was starting to sputter, like it was straining angrily. Like...something was overloading.

Feeling an unpleasant sense of dread starting to coil in her stomach, Charley took a cautious step back. A second later that crazy mouse came racing back out of the ship, and before she knew it he had tackled her to the ground, pinning her underneath his muscular form. Less than an instant later the ship exploded, sending fire and debris skyward and singeing the grass and trees.

"Are you completely crazy?" Charley cried as she pushed him off.

"You know it, babe."

Scoffing in disgust, she got up and started brushing herself off. "Just what are you trying to--"

"I'm _trying_ to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere," he interrupted tersely. "And now I can't."

For a moment Charley only stared at him, gazing back at her with such earnestness. With an angry grunt, she pushed him away. "It doesn't matter," she cried. "You'll just find some other way later, and don't act like you won't!"

Rubbing between his eyes, Vinnie let out a soft growl, and Charley could tell he was losing patience. "Charley-girl," he said quietly, "I just blew up my only way home, and it might be months or even years before someone comes looking for me. What else do I have to do to convince you that I'm _not_ going anywhere?"

"What do _I_ have to do," she shot back, "to convince you that all I want you to do is _leave_?"

He looked at her for a moment--and then he suddenly lunged for her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to him. "Let go," she shouted, squirming and twisting in his grasp. But like before, it was no use; his grip was like iron. But he didn't hold her hard enough to hurt.

"No," he said quietly, struggling to pull her closer as she continued to squirm. "Don't you understand? I'm never letting you go again."

Part of her ached to believe that--but no. There was no way she could be sure. She knew him too well. She knew that he would get restless someday, even if he truly believed what he was telling her here and now. She couldn't take that chance.

"If you really wanted me to leave," he went on, "then you wouldn't have all but told me that you don't want me to."

Oh, she was so _stupid_ for letting that slip out. And now he had no choice but to stay--not because he wanted to, but because he wanted the truth out of her.

And then it hit her, like an ice-cold wave crashing over her and threatening to drown her. She went still for a moment--long enough for his grip to relax. She jerked free and shoved him so hard he stumbled backward. "Okay," she said, her voice quavering as emotion swelled inside her until it was impossible to keep it all down. "You want to know the truth? Every last bit of it?"

Vinnie looked relieved--and excited. Like he had finally worn her down. "Yes. That's all I want. I want to know what happened to you to make you so hurt and afraid."

"Fine."

She walked casually back to his bike and climbed on. "Take me home."

Something inside Charley was screaming at her. This was exactly why she had done everything she did to hide in the first place--and now she was going to just show him. It was insane.

But she had every belief that in the end, it would do what she was saying would happen all along. Drive him out of her life forever.

* * *

"Hey, wait up," Modo called.

After he heard what had happened he had quickly run to find Throttle, with Rimfire close at his heels. They found him outside with Tamerin, in about the same spot they had teleported to when they first got here. As he drew near, the two of them turned around; Modo felt something unpleasant stir inside him.

He didn't like the look on Throttle's face at all. It was so vacant, so closed-off. Yet Modo could plainly feel the pain that was searing inside his friend. Part of his heart ached in sympathy. "I'm sorry, bro," he said quietly.

Throttle turned away and faced the horizon. "I'm over it." He glanced at Tamerin. "Let's get moving."

"Where you goin'?" Modo wondered in surprise.

"On vacation. Our last one kind of sucked."

"Can we come?" asked Rimfire, sounding a little waspish. "It's not like I have anything to do around here right now."

Modo looked at how his nose was scrunched up in annoyance and snickered in spite of himself. "You've always looked cute when you pout."

"I'm not pouting, I'm pissed off," Rimfire snapped.

"Language, boy, language."

His nephew scowled harder and muttered under his breath for a moment. Modo turned to Tamerin. "Okay if we tag along?"

She gave a shrug and smiled. "I suppose. You probably won't have much to do once you get there, though."

"Anything's worth a distraction," Rimfire noted.

And a distraction was just what they all needed right about now, so Modo nodded in agreement. Tamerin tapped a button on her wrist communicator. "Ready for transport," she said. "Send three extra suits while you're at it."

"Suits?" Throttle echoed.

"The surface of Malteria is rather...unpleasant."

"Hey, it's cool," Throttle said, heading over to where his bike was parked and grabbing his helmet. "We've got these."

"Not good enough. The atmosphere is extremely toxic. Just a few minutes of direct contact will melt your skin clean off."

Throttle glanced over at Modo, who smirked. "Fine with me. You know I look good in a suit."

Tamerin chuckled. "I'll bet."

A humming sound passed through the air, and with a shimmer of blue-white light, a small metal box appeared in the sand. Tamerin knelt and opened it, then passed each of them a bodysuit made from a grayish-white material that felt kind of like a combination of satin and silk, only it was very light and pliable--and extremely flexible, Modo discovered, stretching easily to fit even his massive frame despite looking many sizes too small when he first picked it up. The pressure of it against his fur felt light and comfortable, almost like it wasn't even there.

After tugging his suit on, Rimfire started to head to where his bike was parked. When Modo started to do the same, Tamerin called after them, "You should leave those here."

The two of them stopped and stared. So did Throttle. "You kiddin', Ma'am?" Modo asked.

Tamerin was pulling a small, round helmet out of the box. "Not at all," she said, pushing her hair up and tugging the helmet on. "There's not exactly a lot of room inside our colony, and the surface is too rough for joyriding. Not to mention the local wildlife is kind of...testy."

The three of them exchanged glances. Glances that clearly stated that they weren't sure even the best vacation was worth leaving their bikes behind for. Tamerin let out an impatient sigh. "Okay, we'll do it like this; you can come scope things out first, and if you decide you _really_ have to, you can come back for your bikes. Deal?"

"Not too long, now," Modo advised.

Tamerin waited for them to put their helmets on, then lifted her communicator again. "Ready," she said.

The same blue-white light from before enveloped the four of them for a moment, and then it faded like a retreating mist. Modo didn't feel any sort of change at first, but after the last of the light was gone, he felt an odd sort of lurch. Not at all like the trip from Earth to Mars; he hadn't felt a thing that time, and the adjustment had taken an instant.

Here, it took several seconds for his eye to adjust to the orange-yellow haze he was now staring into. It took him a second or two more to realize that there wasn't anything worth mentioning to see. The sandy plain they were standing on was dusty, craggy, and completely desolate and empty. The sky above was a sickly swirl of green, red, black, and a dozen other murky colors that made his head swim.

Something else was also making his head swim, but he wasn't sure what it was. And there was an odd sort of pressure building against his body, as if something in the air--something he couldn't see--was pushing at him. Trying to get past the defense of the suit Tamerin had given him, he realized. His mind suddenly--crazily--formed an image of millions of microscopic, multi-toothed creatures gnawing at him.

In the haze, he saw Tamerin walking ahead of them; the three of them moved to follow. Modo's head swam again, and that lurching feeling rushed back, making his stomach turn over a little. His footsteps felt uneven, even though the ground here was smooth and flat. He noticed that Throttle and Rimfire looked equally unsteady.

Ahead of them, Tamerin walked straight and easy as ever, heading over to what looked like a smooth, empty patch of sand. When she got there, she paused and lifted her wrist com. "Send it up," she said.

Several seconds of silence passed...and then the sand shifted a little, parting as something round rose out of the ground. It kept on rising until it stood a foot or two above their heads with a quiet rushing sound. It was shaped like a cylinder, almost like a tall capsule with a set of doors in the center; Tamerin pushed a button and they slid open. Smiling, she gestured them inside.

As soon as they were in and the doors closed again, that weird gnawing feeling faded; Modo almost sighed in relief. Still looking relaxed and unfazed, Tamerin pushed a button on the inside wall. The narrow lift gave a small shudder, and in the distance came a sound almost like shifting sand. There was a subtle feeling of movement, gentle and fluid--almost like they were riding a wave.

It was a good couple of minutes before the ride ended. When the lift pulled to a stop with a quiet clunk, the door slid open again. Outside the lift was a small corridor, with a tightly sealed, ultra-reinforced door at the end. Tamerin went over and typed in a long, complicated-looking code on the keypad next to it; the door swished open noisily. She made a sweep with her hand.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the Imeeran Undercity."


	8. Chapter 8

Throttle took a look around him, though there really wasn't a whole lot to see. The small room the lift had opened up into was rectangular in shape and housed several quietly humming machines, complete with control panels with softly blinking lights and a few flickering screens. The floor, walls and ceiling were made from a silverish material, though it wasn't any metal he had ever seen. It was smooth and sleek, giving the place a soft edge.

There was someone sitting behind a low console across the room; he looked up as the four of them came in. His back pulled straighter, as if he was waiting for something. Tamerin gave a flick of her wrist--twice, with two fingers extended. The male relaxed. "Welcome back, Tam. Who're our guests?"

"Three bored martians. Don't worry, Trent. They're cool."

The transport operator eyed them a moment. He seemed unusually handsome for such a mundane job, Throttle felt, with chiseled features and skin almost as luminous as Tamerin's, though his was more of a grayish-tan. His hair was black and cropped close to his head. "You sure?" he asked, a wary note creeping into his voice.

"I'm sure. My quarry was taken care of."

"What was that thing, anyway?" Throttle asked. He had been too distracted earlier to think about it, but now he was wondering just what had been impersonating him like that.

Tamerin took a moment to slip off her bodysuit before answering. "We're not really sure who or what they are ourselves," she admitted. "But my people have quietly been at war with them for a little over thirty years."

"How can you 'quietly' be at war with someone?" Rimfire wanted to know.

"I'll explain later. First, get comfortable and then I'll take you on the grand tour."

There were rows of tall, narrow lockers near the door leading into the lift; the three of them folded their borrowed bodysuits and set them on an open shelf, along with their helmets. Throttle noticed out of the corner of his eye that Tamerin had slipped off through a slender doorway at the side of the room. When she came back a minute or so later, she had changed out of the biker boots and leather halter top and put on a softer shirt and pants. It was all still snug, the shirt sleeveless, but Throttle felt a twinge of disappointment; he was definitely a fan of the latex. Everything she had changed into was still black, though, including the boots. The color was a striking contrast to her snow-white skin.

There was also a small laser pistol strapped to her right thigh. "This way," she instructed, heading through a door on the other side of the room. Trent waved absently and went back to work.

The next area wasn't a room or a hallway so much as it was a narrow corridor. It opened up into a small, square room with a door on either side and a set of cots attached to the wall, one on top of the other, like triple bunk beds. "This is a guard station," she explained. "We have to keep an eye on who or what comes in here."

She led them to the right and through another corridor. The next room wasn't enormous, but it was a heck of a lot bigger than the other two. There were beds with privacy curtains, multiple computer stations, and rows of trays covered in medical equipment. Standing to one side and quietly typing something on a small data pad in her hand was a girl who looked about half of Tamerin's size. Her skin was petal-pink and her long hair was a pale lavender.

"Our infirmary. And this is Doctor Deichan," Tamerin said, resting a hand on the girl's slim shoulder. "You ever need anything, just run to the Doc. She can fix anything."

Deichan flushed prettily and bowed her head shyly. Throttle noticed that as they left the room again, Rimfire walked out the door backward, a crooked grin on his face. "If all the females here look as good as these two, I think I'm going to like this vacation."

Modo shot him a look. "You're too young to start thinking about that," he scolded.

"I am not," Rimfire grunted, exasperated. "Would you stop--"

He cut himself off and stared, his dark eyes wide. "Whoa."

Throttle turned and followed his gaze, which was fixed on the other side of the corridor outside the infirmary. The corridor was long and slender and had a bend in it, and there were two portal-shaped windows set in either wall. They curved outward, like small domes.

Outside was a sea of blue--literally. The water was lit by a soft glow, illuminating glittering sea plants, colorful coral-like shapes, and schools of fish of all sizes, colors, and shapes. Rimfire went to the window on the left-hand side and peered closer. "You all live underwater?" he asked in surprise.

"We have to," Tamerin responded. "We're hardy, but the surface is too harsh even for us. But the ocean is pure, so we made our home down here."

Throttle looked away from the window and studied her for a moment. "What did you say this planet was called?"

"Malteria."

"But you're not Malterians," he guessed.

She smirked. "You're the sharp one, huh? I'm going to have to keep my eye on you."

Behind him, Throttle thought he heard Modo snicker and whisper something to Rimfire. He chose to ignore them.

"You're right; we're not. There aren't any native Malterians, unless you count those things that live on the surface. We call ourselves Imeerans, but technically we aren't. And we don't really come from anywhere, originally."

Rimfire, who had been staring out the window again, looked at her curiously. "Why's that?"

"We weren't born on a planet. We were bio-engineered."

The young mouse nodded--then did a double-take. " _What_?"

"Long story. I'll explain that later too, but let's finish the tour first."

She beckoned them around the corner--and the tour ended. "And that's it," she noted, folding her arms. In front of her was a round doorway that was firmly sealed.

"That's _it_?" Rimfire echoed, clearly perplexed.

"Well, there's a little more on the other side of the bunks, like where we eat and shower. But other than that...that's it."

She gestured to the other window. On the opposite side of the station was a series of structures anchored to the ocean floor. Most of them were small, but the one in the center was massive, and covered in a transparent dome. The light that was illuminating the water was emanating from it; it looked like an underwater city. There was the light of homes, the flash of business signs, a distinct sense of movement.

But from the look of it, the city was sealed off just like this section. So were the other structures.

"You see," Tamerin began, folding her arms again and leaning her shoulder on the door, "we never really ran into much trouble once we settled here. There was the occasional attack by local wildlife when we first tried to map out the surface, but we eventually learned how to avoid them. Sometimes a ship crashes here, thanks to the powerful gravitational pull this planet has, but that has never really resulted in any major incident either."

She turned her head and gazed outside at the city, her expression turning wistful. "So it took us all by surprise when the shape-shifters suddenly showed up. We don't know where they come from or what they want, but they're bound and determined to get rid of us. When they first came, it was an all-out attack. We were off guard and we lost hundreds. But then we pulled together and fought back, and they retreated. And then they started sending one at a time--one that looked like one of us. Each time one snuck in they managed to slaughter dozens before they were found."

"And there's no way to detect them?" Throttle wondered.

Tamerin gave her head a shake. "We haven't been able to find one, though we're trying. They can look like anything or anyone, and you saw what happened when I took the one back on Mars out. They're extremely resilient, but when they die, they just kind of _poof_ out of existence. We've never been able to salvage anything to study.

"We aren't doing very well trying to track them, either," she went on grimly. "We managed to spot the last one that tried to pull a sneak attack on us here and it fled, so I chased after it. It took a ship off planet, but I kept after it, just to see how long it would take. I followed it for almost four months before it finally gave itself away--that mouse it was trying to impersonate is a nervous wreck and doesn't smile for anything."

She breathed a sigh and pushed away from the wall. "For the first few years we tried to allow only military and combat personnel to go to and from the city, but it was eventually decided to seal it off completely. And the rest of the pods followed one by one, until everything was cut off and left self-contained. The last pod was closed up about a year ago."

Throttle understood now why she said there wasn't any room to ride. And he had changed his mind about the surface. "So this is all there is?" he asked quietly.

"For the handful of us here? Yes."

"Sounds crammed," Rimfire noted sympathetically.

"And lonely," Modo added.

Tamerin shrugged and started back the way they came. "We're used to it. Even though we have one of the only access points to the outside, making us the most likely to be attacked, we're all pretty casual here these days. If we stuck to rigid protocol we'd all be nuts by now, so we've all basically become like family. Either that or we'd be ready to strangle each other."

"Are you a guard too?" Throttle wondered as they passed through the room with the bunks again.

"Me? No." She flashed a smile. "I specialize in off world missions."

She led them into a square room that was almost as large as the infirmary, full of long tables lined with sleek chairs without arms, with more chairs that looked overstuffed and upholstered with a plush material lined up along the back wall, and tall, narrow windows were nestled in between each of them. The lighting was a little softer here, and there were personal, homey touches around, like potted plants in the corners and pictures and posters on the walls. A few more Imeerans were sitting around the tables or in the window chairs, reading data pads or sipping a steaming drink. Counting the doctor and Tamerin, it looked like less than ten were housed in this particular pod.

As they came in, someone got up from a chair in the back--someone Throttle almost didn't see at first. His skin was so dark he blended in with the shadows. In fact, he kind of looked like a shadow. A shadow with dark red eyes that glowed like garnets being held up to the light, outlined with a soft ring the color of warm cocoa. Like Tamerin, his hair was pure white, though it bore a lot more luster than his skin as it hung to a spot about level with his shoulder blades.

His face broke out in a grin and he darted forward, putting his arms around Tamerin. "Good to have you back, Tam," he said, as she returned the embrace. Then his eyes focused on the trio behind them. His expression hardened. "Who the hell let other worlders in here?"

Tamerin let out a sigh as she stepped back. "I invited them. Relax."

The red eyes blazed. "Relax? Are you crazy?"

"They're just Martians; they won't cause any harm. I'll make sure of it."

"You better," the shadow-figure muttered darkly.

Scowling, he brushed his way past them and stalked away. "That's my brother, Jayce," Tamerin explained. "Unless they crash-landed here as a baby, he doesn't trust anyone from other planets. It's nothing personal."

"Do babies crash-land here often?" Modo asked dryly.

"Not very, but it happens. Like I said, this planet has a bad habit of sucking ships in, and most of the time the inhabitants don't survive. A few years ago the part of some convoy got nabbed. The pilot and caretakers didn't make it, but all the infants and little ones aboard did."

She went over to a bar-like counter on the other side of the room, where a slightly shorter female seemed to be idly waiting to pass out drinks. Throttle couldn't help noticing that all Imeerans, whether they were male or female, seemed to be remarkably attractive. There wasn't a plain one among this particular group, at least.

"Got any root beer?" Modo asked.

Tamerin let out a laugh. "No, but I'll find you a substitute."

She ordered a dark golden liquid for herself and something that looked pink and kind of frothy for the three of them. It was pretty sweet and lacked carbonation, but there was something appealing about it, so Throttle continued to sip as they sat down at one of the tables.

"So, what happened to those little ones?" Modo wondered.

Throttle smiled slightly; leave it to the big guy to worry about that. "They're fine," Tamerin responded. "They were taken safely to an orphanage. Unfortunately most of them are still there, since they're separated from the residential block. If not they'd have all been snatched up by now."

"How come?" Rimfire asked curiously.

"Because no children have been born here since shortly before the war. The military discussed it and decided that pregnancy left women too vulnerable during the attacks, plus able-bodied females were needed for combat. Small children also present too easy of a target, so it was decided that it was best for everyone if we didn't procreate. Not until our people are safe, or at least until we find a way to ensure that the shape-shifters never enter our colony again."

As he listened to this, Throttle felt himself start to frown. "The military," he repeated. "Do they make all the big decisions around here?"

"Pretty much."

Throttle sank back in his seat with a sigh. "Swell."

* * *

As she dragged him off his bike and over to the apartment building, Vinnie noted that Charley seemed to have forgotten that she wasn't, well, fully-dressed at the moment. Not that he was complaining. When she started to climb the fire escape, he took a moment to admire the view her black-clad backside offered. "Nothing wrong with using the front door now," he commented with a grin.

Charley scowled down at him--and then pulled him up to the level she was standing on. "I can't unlock the door," she snapped, "since you dragged me off without my keys. Now get up there."

To his disappointment, she shoved him in front of her and pushed him up the stairs; so much for the view. When they reached the third floor, he gallantly offered her his hand, meaning to help her in through the window. She ignored him and nudged him forward with her foot. "Don't remember you being so rough," he grunted, nearly stumbling as he climbed inside.

Charley didn't respond as she crawled in after him, seizing his arm again as soon as she straightened. She didn't seem to want to waste a second--like she was afraid that if she stopped moving, or stopped to think, she would change her mind.

When they reached her bedroom, she let go of him and switched on the bedside lamp. "Look," she ordered, pointing.

It looked to him like she was pointing at the bed, which prompted him to waggle his eyebrows. "Really, Charley-girl..."

Grunting in frustration, she ran her fingers through her short hair--a clear sign of nerves. "Do I have to punch you again?" she demanded.

"Please don't," he pleaded, patting his still tender nose. He was worried that another blow like that would risk causing permanent damage to his looks.

Charley pointed again. "Go _around_ the bed. And keep your voice down."

Vinnie gave her a funny look, but he moved around the foot of the bed and looked at the other side, down at the small space between the bed and the wall under the window. What he saw made his heart stop, his blood go cold and his hands turn numb.

A cradle. A little golden brown cradle that sat low to the floor, making it lower than the edge of the bed. A brown-and-white striped blanket was draped inside it. And lying beneath the blanket, sleeping soundly and peacefully, was a baby mouse.

A baby mouse with snow white fur.


	9. Chapter 9

_You'll always be mine_  
_I know deep inside_  
_All that's done is forgiven_  
~Forgiven;  Within Temptation

Every part of Charley's being was screaming _stop this_. Her entire body shook with the effort of holding back the urge to fly forward and gather her son in her arms. Protect him from what she was risking.

Let him look, she told herself fiercely. Let him understand the truth. Only one thing can happen now.

No, that wasn't true...two things could happen. The most likely thing--the scenario she was now praying for--was that Vinnie would suddenly remember something he just had to do and race out of here like his tail was on fire. Guaranteed to never be seen or heard from again.

But there was another scenario. The one that terrified her--terrified and haunted her so badly that it led her to do everything she had done in the first place. All of that had been because of this. The garage, her looks, her name. All an attempt to hide herself away, and shield her precious son.

Because there was a chance, as slim as it might be, that Vinnie would decide that little mice were better off growing up on Mars...and then he would take him away from her.

The thought made her heart ache with pain, so much that it brought stinging tears to her eyes. She didn't think she would be able to go on if that happened. After the three of them were gone, her son had been all she had left. As shocking and confusing as his arrival had been, he had become her life, her reason for being.

Something in the back of her mind, something long buried, whispered of a third scenario. Something she kept secret even from herself, and never dared to hope for even for an instant. It would never happen. Never.

All of this seared through her thoughts as Vinnie gawked, his mouth opening and closing like a puffer fish. She expected him to be running away by now--too much responsibility here--but instead he was gesturing helplessly at her, at himself. "But I never--" he stammered, "--I mean we--that is, you and I, we didn't..."

"No," she said, as calmly as she could. "Of course we didn't. Don't you remember that thing that captured us two years ago?"

Vinnie opened and closed his mouth a few more times--and then the dazed look in his eyes cleared a little, his brow furrowing in thought. "Yeah," he said, after a moment. "That tall thing in the robes, right?"

Yeah, that thing. That bug, or lizard, or...whatever the hell it had been. "Wait-- _this_ was the 'noble mission' it told us about?"

Charley gave a shrug, trying to play it casual--a guise she was pretty sure failed miserably as she wrapped her arms around herself to mask the slight tremor running through her limbs. "That's what he told me. He said something about his race conducting an experiment of all compatible species from across the galaxies that they could find. He said the test he ran on the sample he took from one of you three and the one from me were a success, so he might as well impregnate me while he was at it."

Those weren't quite the words that thing had used, but it was close enough. He said something about the 'samples blending perfectly and it was a shame not to put them to use immediately.' She hadn't understood what that meant at the time...but the fact that he had injected something directly into her uterus had been a pretty big hint, and the reality of what had been done became painfully obvious over the next month or so.

Vinnie was staring at her now, having finally taken his eyes off her son. _Her_ son, she reminded herself sharply. "Why didn't you say something before I left?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would never have gone, no matter what was going on back home. I wouldn't--"

"I didn't know," she said, her voice coming out louder than she meant it to. "I didn't know whose baby I was carrying until the day he was born."

Her voice nearly cracked at the end of that sentence, and she could feel herself starting to break down inside. All her carefully constructed walls were starting to waver as the memories from that time came rushing back to her. How she had hoped and prayed all those months, wanting it to _not_ be Vinnie's--yet at the same time wanting that more than anything. The conflict inside her had been agony.

That was nothing compared to what she was feeling now--this combination of fear and uncertainty that threatened to make her legs give out as the ferocity of it raged through her. "I didn't know," she repeated, her voice quavering even as she tried to keep it steady and low. "And even after I did, what did it matter? You were gone. I had no way of telling you. I didn't _want_ to tell you. I never wanted you to find out."

The look Vinnie was giving her scared her a little. His eyes were so full of hurt, and so much confusion... "But, sweetheart, _why_? If I knew I would have come racing back to you. I don't care what I would have had to do--I would have tackled a comet just to get back here to you. I would have--"

"You would have just left again!"

Vinnie gave his head a shake, his eyes never leaving hers. "No. _No_."

"You won't stay here with me," she rambled on, aware that she was giving away too much but was beyond caring anymore. "You live there and I live here. It would never work. You have your life and I have mine and I did what I had to do to--"

He suddenly lunged at her, just like earlier. Only this time, he seized both her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back, pinning them in place as he wrapped his own arms around her. "Don't you get it yet?" he whispered, his face close enough that she felt his breath. "I'm not letting you go. Not ever."

Charley tried to shake her head in protest, to pull away, but he pressed closer, his face brushing against hers. For one crazy second she thought he was trying to kiss her, but then she felt something cool touch her forehead. She had a flash of memory of the last time she had been touched by Martian antennas--and then she felt a rush of something she had never experienced before. Not like this.

Love. Love so bright and intense and powerful she felt it flood straight into her veins, filling her to the core until she felt like it was glowing from her very pores. It robbed her of breath and thought and awareness, making her feel like she was floating free in some safe, timeless place. Somewhere in reality, she vaguely felt Vinnie's arms tighten around her, and she even more vaguely felt her own arms being released; she clung to him as she gasped for air.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say, whether out loud or in his mind she couldn't tell. "I should never have left you. I never wanted to."

"I understand why," she whispered. Tears were streaming down her face, but she wasn't sure if they were of pain or of joy. "You had to go--it was what you had to do at the time."

"I should have come back sooner. If I had known..."

"It's forgotten."

And it was. The pain was gone now, washed away by this feeling swelling inside her, this feeling that wasn't his and wasn't hers, but both of theirs. "It doesn't matter now. I know that I'm safe here with you. I'm sorry I doubted you."

There was laughter in his mind and voice, so light and free it made her heart soar. "Hey, if I were you, I would have a hard time depending on me too."

No more talking, she thought, and he didn't. He was kissing her, so suddenly and so fiercely she wasn't quite sure when he started to. She just hoped he never stopped.

He kissed her over and over again, moistening her lips, peppering her cheeks and hair, all the while whispering soft words of love and comfort. "I'm sorry I acted so nuts," she murmured. "And I'm sorry I socked you."

Vinnie chuckled and pulled her closer, his head leaving hers as he rested it on her shoulder. The connection between them slipped away; she nearly whined in disappointment. But it wasn't really gone, she quickly realized. It was right here in the circle of their arms, the rapid beating of their hearts. Vinnie nuzzled her cheek, his expression wry.

"You'll just have to make it up to me."

* * *

After pacing back and forth across the length of the sealed guard station several times, Throttle came to the conclusion that this vacation was going to be even shorter than the last one. It was calm here--peaceful even, despite the knife-like gaze of Jayce and the ever-looming concern of sneak attacks. But with nothing to see and nowhere to go, it was pretty boring. He had no idea how everyone here had survived for a year without going out of their minds.

"That's another reason I head off planet so often," Tamerin explained sheepishly when he mentioned this. "We all take turns, in fact. Walking around other worlds helps keep the edge off."

Throttle considered this for a moment. "Anywhere else you'd like to go?" he wondered as the two walked down the narrow corridor outside the infirmary. He wasn't anxious to return to Earth just yet--and it was going to be a while before he was ready to go home. Besides, if Vinnie needed help he'd contact someone, or fly the ship back to Mars.

Tamerin shook her head. "Not right now. I've still got a report to fill out."

She suddenly paused and cocked her head, narrowing her eyes a little, like she was scrutinizing him--or something about him. Throttle gave her a funny look. "What?"

"I've been wondering," she said, reaching up to lightly tap a fingertip to the bridge of his specs, "if you ever take these off."

"Not if I can help it. I don't see very well without them."

He gave a startled sound of protest as Tamerin blithely plucked them off the edge of his nose and held them up to the light to examine them. Throttle blinked for several moments, but it wasn't long before he couldn't see what she was doing anymore. "Can I have those back?" he asked dryly.

"I'm just curious," she said lightly. "Do you have to wear these on account of battle damage or something?"

"Or something. Has anyone ever told you that you have lousy manners?"

Tamerin let out a laugh. "Yes; my mother. She also says I'm too emotional."

A second or two of silence ticked by, and then he felt a hand brushing his face, the fingers slender and cool to the touch. Tamerin prodded around his eyes for a moment, then framed one eye between her thumb and forefinger and spread his eyelids, forcing his eye open wider. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her breath on his nose.

"So, what's the diagnosis, Doc?" he asked dryly.

She laughed again and let go. "I'm no doc, but my diagnosis is that you need new ones. Eyes, that is."

"Yeah, well, when I find a pair I'll get back to you."

He held his hand out expectantly. Only instead of finally giving him his source of vision back, Tamerin gave him her hand. "Come on," she ordered, giving him a tug. "We're going eyeball shopping."

"Do I have a say in this?" asked Throttle as she all but dragged him along behind her. She wasn't overly tall--maybe five-foot-seven or so--but she was a lot stronger than he thought she'd be. "No," she informed him crisply.

A set of electronic doors swished open and she pulled him into another room. The distinct smell of medicine touched his nose. "Would now be a good time to mention that I don't like labs?"

But Tamerin didn't seem to be listening. "Hey, Doc," she called. "Think you can get this boy a set of new peepers?"

As she spoke she moved around behind him, gripped his shoulders and bent him forward. Soft footsteps pattered up, and then a pair of small, gentle hands were probing his face. Much like Tamerin had, they pried his eyes open before letting go.

"I can try," Deichan noted softly.

"How about I say no?" Throttle suggested. "If that's okay."

Tamerin promptly let his shoulders go and pressed his specs into his hand. "You'll have to excuse Tamerin," Deichan said, her smile shy when she came into focus. "She's used to taking charge around here, so as a result she's kind of...bossy."

Tamerin laughed jovially. "The understatement of your two hundred years of existence," she declared.

Throttle's ears twitched as he looked down at the soft pink face still gazing shyly up at him. Two hundred? he echoed blankly to himself. You gotta be kidding.

"We wouldn't want you to feel imposed upon over anything," Deichan said hastily. 

"Exactly--so don't blame the Doc," Tamerin added. She crossed the room and sat back in a swivel chair, crossing her long legs. "I'm just extremely pushy."

"More so than usual," Deichan noted, one lavender eyebrow lifting.

Tamerin busied herself with inspecting her fingernails. "I completely understand and respect it if you are perfectly happy with what you have," Deichan went on, clasping her hands in front of her, "but it _does_ look possible for your original sight to be restored."

Throttle would like to know how. "Is this a common practice around here?" he wondered.

"Restoring lost organs? For us, yes. It's a technology we perfected many years ago. We had never tested it on another species though, not until those poor children crashed here a while back. Some of them didn't make it out of the wreckage unscathed, but we discovered that the system we use can be adapted to seemingly any cell type."

"Yeah, well...that's something I'd have to give some thought."

If he were interested, that is. He wasn't comfortable with the thought of someone tampering with him, plus he kind of liked himself just the way he was. Only, he thought to himself as he left the infirmary, he had liked his old self well enough, too. And he wasn't really that same person anymore--he wasn't even the same person he was just a short time ago. He had no war at home to worry about, and no relationship to be a part of. It was a brand new chapter in his life.

Maybe it _was_ time for a crazy change.

After debating for several more minutes, he turned back. "Okay. You twisted my arm."


	10. Chapter 10

Charley lay quietly in bed, her eyes gazing absently at the ceiling. The first light of dawn was just starting to slink in around the window shade, the whiteish haze of it mingling with the blue of the nightlight. There was also a hint of pink, which had tinged the edges of her vision for the last hour or so. Not that she was complaining.

To her right the bedroom door stood partway open, the early morning light shining out into the hallway. Earlier they had quietly moved their son from his cradle to his playpen in the living room, keeping him close enough where she would hear if he started fussing, but far enough where they wouldn't wake him.

 _Their_ son, Charley repeated to herself. It was a wonderful, wonderful thought.

Reaching to put her arms around his neck, she turned to the mouse lying in bed with her. He looked a little sleepy, but alert, and about as content as she felt right now. "I love you, Vinnie," she said softly, bringing a hand up to stroke the fur behind his ear. "Have I told you that yet?"

That familiar grin of his broke out. "Only about a dozen times or so tonight," he noted, nuzzling her face.

His powerful arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him without force as his mouth sought hers. Charley closed her eyes and let out a slow sigh, enjoying the feel of his fur against her lips, the soft grazing of his teeth. She slowly arched herself against him, their torsos pressing together beneath the blankets. She wrapped her legs around him, feeling a gentle brush of fur touch her most intimate places. She broke away from his mouth and hugged his head to her, her lips resting on a spot near his ear.

"I'm so glad you're finally mine, Charley-girl," Vinnie murmured, his cheek resting against the curve of her throat.

"I was always yours. Just like you've always been mine."

Her heart speeding a little, Charley tightened her arms. "More," she whispered.

Somehow, the word came out as both an order and a plea. She felt that grin return again as his mouth moved against her throat. "Yes, Ma'am."

It was indescribable, the unity they managed to achieve that night--achieved again and again. Their bodies flowed in perfect time and rhythm, like two waves cresting and falling together. Several times he connected their minds along with their bodies, and it always robbed her breath to feel that rush of love and passion flood from inside of him and into her, mingling with the pleasure already swelling within her. It was almost too much to stand, and she probably would have roused the entire block with her teary cries of ecstasy if Vinnie didn't keep them muffled with his mouth.

He didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was pretty sure he liked it when she yelled. When they finally parted, she lay trembling beside him, her hand clinging to his. This was all so _right_. It was exactly what she'd been wanting--needing--for all this time.

"Stay with me forever," she said breathlessly, her fingers tightening around his.

Vinnie reached up to dry her eyes. "You know I will. This is what I want. This is where I belong."

Sniffling, she put her arms around him and clung to him, and he tenderly kissed away the rest of her tears. They lay quietly for a little while, just enjoying this closeness that they shared. Then Charley pecked his nose and smiled slyly. "More?"

Vinnie's smile mirrored hers. "You got it."

* * *

"Did I mention that I don't like labs?" Throttle said, as Deichan worked at the console behind his head.

He was lying back on a hospital bed, which was soft and comfortable, complete with a warm bed sheet under him and a thermal blanket draped over him. What kept him from relaxing was the odd device looming above him ominously. It looked like...well, he wasn't sure what it looked like. Maybe like one of those long arms like you'd see next to the chair in a dentist's office. With something long and sharp sticking out of it.

Tamerin, who was still hanging around for some reason, leaned over him with a smirk. "You're not in a lab, you're in an infirmary," she reminded him. "And you've got the gentlest of angels here, fluffing your pillow."

He couldn't see her from this angle, but Throttle heard Deichan giggle in embarrassment. "Oh, come on."

Honestly, he had to agree. The delicate girl put him in mind of wispy angels and dew-kissed fairies. Yet her small hands seemed knowledgeable and fully capable as she manipulated the machine she was using. Lights blinked near the head of the bed, and the monitor he was hooked up to--unobtrusively--beeped quietly to his left. Tamerin hovered at his right, though he wasn't sure why.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked. For some reason having her watch so closely was making him edgy. Well, edgier.

"I don't have a full staff here," Deichan said apologetically. "The hospital inside the city is much, much bigger. Here it's just us, but don't worry. Tam has medical experience."

As the doctor spoke, Tamerin reached over and gently pulled his specs off. Throttle's vision gradually went blank. "No use," Deichan suddenly noted. "There isn't a single cell of original tissue left. It's like the eye sockets were scraped before the replacements were put in."

Nice to know, Throttle thought dryly. "What's that mean for you?" he wondered.

"We won't be able to regrow your original eyes," Tamerin explained. "But don't worry; we can come up with a worthwhile alternative."

He felt her reach over him and heard a quiet tapping as she pushed a set of buttons. "Oh," she added, "this is the part where you drift off for a little while. Pleasant dreams."

Throttle felt a sudden warmth spread through his veins, soothing and pleasant. The tension in his body was rapidly swept away, leaving him feeling limp and light as a feather. He had no real awareness of the passage of time after that, or any real awareness of anything at all, but he noticed when the warm feeling slowly started to fade again.

When it was gone, he became aware that he was sitting up in a chair, though he still couldn't see. Everything was completely dark, and he could feel that his eyes were closed. Something was wrapped around his head--over his eyes, specifically. "Just a precaution," Deichan's gentle voice told him, as he absently fingered the soft bandages. "It's best if no light gets through until I'm sure that the implants have taken hold."

Oddly enough, Throttle didn't feel any different. Once the anesthesia fully wore off, he felt just like his usual self. There wasn't even a funny taste in his mouth. And he was kind of hungry.

"Okay if I eat?"

"Of course," came Tamerin's voice, before she took hold of his hands and pulled him to his feet. "Let's go."

"Nothing heavy at first," Deichan warned. "Nausea isn't likely, but don't take any foolish chances."

Throttle could plainly hear the grin in her voice as Tamerin spoke again. "Don't worry, Doc. I'll take good care of him."

Something about the way she said that gave Throttle the sneaking suspicion he knew exactly the kind of care she'd like to give him.

* * *

Modo leaned against the bar in the dining area, swirling the clear liquid of the drink he was currently sampling around in its glass. He hadn't found anything he really liked yet, but the sweet bartender assured him that it was okay for him to take as much as he wanted, so he continued to gulp down samples. She had also assured him that nothing would intoxicate him--alcohol was too risky a substance to have around here, since everyone needed to keep their wits about them at all times. Although she also mentioned that Imeerans had special filters in their blood that made getting drunk almost impossible.

Still, he would swear that he was starting to feel a little light-headed.

"That's the sugar buzz," Rimfire informed him with a smirk when he mentioned this. His nephew had stopped back at the third sample or so and simply watched as he downed another one. "I like this yellow one," Modo noted, pleased. "It reminds me of Earth sunshine."

"Looks more like urine to me."

The bartender stifled a snicker behind her hand, while Modo turned to glare at him. "Where are your manners, boy?"

Rimfire scowled at him in response and headed across the room, dropping into a seat next to one of the tall windows. Modo glanced at him and would swear that his young nephew was trying to flirt with the pretty green-haired girl sitting next to him. He would also swear that he had been trying to flirt with the bartender a minute ago, too.

"Nah," he decided, and drained the last of the yellow drink.

A moment later Throttle came into the room, with Tamerin leading him by the hand to a table--literally. His bro wasn't wearing his specs, and there was a medical bandage wrapped around his head, obscuring his eyes. For a moment Modo could only gawk.

"What did you do?" he asked when he finally found his tongue.

"Just a little minor surgery," Tamerin answered as she plunked into a seat next to Throttle. "Two dishes of sauceless noodles over here," she added, waving to the bartender.

"Where do you get all this food, anyway?" Modo wondered as he joined them.

"Off planet shopping trips, of course. Other pods were much better prepared than this one, but we kind of had to seal up in a hurry, leaving us stuck with whatever provisions--and people--we had on hand that day. It's a shame, really, because some of us here, well...their talents are better off elsewhere."

Tamerin glanced at Throttle. "Especially the Doc; she's too good for this little hole. We haven't had any notable injuries since we closed up in here, and we'd have easily managed without her. It's probably a good thing you came along," she went on with a grin, reaching over to finger Throttle's bandage. "I think it did her good to work her brain muscles a little."

Modo watched, eyebrow cocked, as Tamerin rested her chin on her hands and continued to grin, her eyes never leaving Throttle. He had noticed her discreetly checking him out once or twice before, but now that his bro couldn't see, she was taking blatant advantage and enjoying the five-star tour.

The bartender came over and deposited the order of noodles on the table in front of them. Tamerin was just reaching for her fork when Jayce appeared in the doorway; he beckoned to his sister impatiently.

Tamerin breathed a sigh. "Pardon me, gentleman."

Modo watched her walk away, then looked across the table at Throttle, who was quietly feeling for his utensils. "Is it just me," Modo began in a low voice, "or am I sensing a vibe here?"

Throttle's jaw hardened. He gripped his fork and started stirring the noodles. "It's just you," he said gruffly. "Do I have to remind you that I just broke up with my first and only significant other less than a day ago?"

No, he didn't, but Modo was still certain that he sensed a spark in the air, at least on Tamerin's part. She certainly seemed hard-pressed to keep her eyes--not to mention hands--off his bro.

But Modo had noticed that excessive touching was common around here. Not in a weird or dirty kind of way--it was pretty subtle, actually. The guards and other residents all spoke quietly to each other, and Modo didn't think it had anything to do with the fact that they had company; it was just the way they were. Their movements were just as light and quiet as their speech, and a lot of the time their words were paired with a soft touch, usually to a hand, wrist, or shoulder, and generally only with fingertips. Sometimes only a word or two was actually spoken, but those touches seemed to communicate just as much as a whole sentence would.

And then there were those hand gestures, but so far he had only seen Tamerin and Jayce make them. Quick flicks of the wrist that only meant something to the locals and no one else, apparently.

An Imeeran male suddenly got up from the next table over, a data pad in hand. He had dark brown skin and steel gray hair that touched his shoulders. "You guys sleepy?" he asked as he came over.

"I just woke up," mumbled Throttle, his attention on his noodles.

"I'm good for now," Modo said. "Why?"

"There's only the three bunks, but there's also the beds in the infirmary, and sometimes a nap in one of the chairs here works. Just letting you know where you can sleep, if you plan to stay a while, because sometimes you might have to wait your turn."

He left the room, head bent over the data pad. Throttle snorted quietly. "I don't think we'll be staying much longer," he noted. "We ran out of things to do five minutes after we got here."

"We should at least wait until your bandages come off," Modo reminded him. He paused, then asked, "Why'd you do this, anyway?"

Throttle shrugged. "Just felt like it was time for a change. That's all."

Modo didn't really think his friend was in the right mindset to be making a change as monumental as this, but he stayed quiet about it. Across the room, Rimfire suddenly got up and stretched. "I heard about taking a nap," he said with a yawn. "I could use one about now."

Modo wasn't interested in going to sleep right now, but he didn't have anything better to do, so he wandered after his nephew as he headed to the guard bunks, where someone was already dozing on the bottom bed. Rimfire glanced at the other two bunks, then started for the opposite door. "I'd rather head to the infirmary," he noted. "It's quieter. Lots of people walk through here."

"You get used to it," the guard commented sleepily, eyes still closed.

Only when Rimfire reached the doorway, Jayce suddenly stepped in his way, his hand lifted in a manner that clearly stated 'you're not going anywhere.' "You can sleep here or on your feet," he said coolly. "Stay out of the infirmary unless you actually need to use it."

Modo frowned. Jayce glared at him in return, his eyes like orbs of flame. Rimfire made a face and headed back out into the dining area. "Think I'll just grab a wink right here," he muttered, slumping into one of the plush chairs and closing his eyes.

At the table, Throttle was swirling the last remaining noodle around on his fork, but he didn't look hungry anymore. Modo was beginning to think he was right; they should probably head back home soon. Most here didn't seem to have a problem with them, but it was pretty clear that the one who did wasn't going to be happy if they decided to stay.


	11. Chapter 11

Charley awoke slowly to find a tingly, buzzing sort of feeling skirting underneath her skin, a pleasant reminder of what her body had enjoyed all throughout the night and on into early dawn. Judging by the warm light now shining around the shade, it was around eight in the morning. Flush with warmth and happiness, she smiled to herself as she stretched her limbs beneath the blanket, her hand reaching out to the space beside her.

Her fingers brushed cool sheets. Surprised, Charley lifted her head and saw that the spot next to her was empty. The sight gave her a cold chill.

It's all right, she told herself as she got up and fumbled for her robe. He probably just went to the bathroom. Or got up to hunt for snacks in the kitchen. There's nothing to worry about.

Despite her attempts at self-assurance, Charley's heart thumped unpleasantly as she left the bedroom and hurried down the hall. It's all right, she told herself again. Everything is...

Everything was better than all right.

The living room was awash with soft light that seemed to glow through the window like a gentle white aura. Seated in front of the closed window was Vinnie, and cradled in his arms was their tiny son.

Vinnie's expression was one of quiet awe, as if he were gazing down at the most priceless of treasures. Her eyes moistening, Charley drifted closer and bent to kiss his furred cheek. "You fixed the window," she noted wryly.

Vinnie lifted his head to smirk at her. "Can't say I'm not handy to have around, sweetheart."

His expression turned serious again, and he gazed back down at their son. "What's his name?" he asked softly.

Charley smiled as she slid her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "Vector," she said.

Vinnie chuckled quietly. "That's awesome."

Smiling, he held their son closer, who shifted a little and went on dreaming. "Hey, little Vector. I know we just met, but I love you with all my heart. And nothing and no one can take me away from you."

Vinnie kissed him gently, then cuddled him to his chest as he settled back in the chair. Smiling again, he twisted his head and kissed Charley on the cheek. "You know that goes for you too, right?"

Charley nodded slightly before squeezing her moist eyes shut tight. "Uh-huh. I know, Vinnie. I know."

* * *

It was difficult to gauge time in such a self-contained, isolated place, especially since he had no idea what the rhythm of the planet outside was like, but if Throttle had to guess he would say that they lingered in the guard station for about three or four days. Every few hours Deichan would come and give him a look over, then tell him 'not yet.' While he waited, he listened to the quiet chatter of the handful of locals between grabbing a bite to eat and dozing off. Even if he wasn't restricted by his lack of sight, he still would have isolated himself. He wasn't in the mood to hang out with anyone, not even Modo or Rimfire, which the pair seemed to sense and gave him a wide breadth.

The only one who continued to hover around him was Tamerin. Usually, he didn't know she was there until she said something. Imeerans, particularly Tamerin and Deichan, all walked so softly he barely heard them around, as if they all walked on eggshells at every moment, expecting danger to strike even though no threat was currently afoot. On top of that, they seemed to barely have any odor, which made keeping track of any of them a big challenge in those first days after his surgery.

Thankfully Tamerin didn't seem to be showing any more signs of the 'vibe' Modo claimed to be sensing. She mostly limited their interactions to asking about how he was feeling or if he needed anything, which he warily took at first as a hint of special interest before he noticed that she seemed to do this with everyone. She wasn't as soft-spoken and sweet as Deichan--she was actually pretty forceful and loud most of the time--but she also had a caring side and was always looking out for those around her. As a result she was something of a den mother around here.

One particular morning--or afternoon, he wasn't sure--he woke up from a nap in the dining area to the quiet beeping of one of those data pads. He had learned that they were used for just about anything, from filling out reports to storing works of fiction, one of the primary sources of recreation around here. Throttle had asked if they had forms of TV and radio, but Tamerin told him no, they advertised and sent out information vital to all residents via a special system; a boxy type of console with a screen, which was either kept inside homes as a part of a table top or a wall. It was only used for sending and receiving info, not for fun--although she also mentioned that Imeerans loved music and had a large library collected from other planets.

The guard station didn't have the system she mentioned, which led the group here to be even more isolated than most. The only link they had was a console kept in the same room as the transporter that connected directly to the main computer at the military base inside the central part of the city.

Modo commented more than once that they all must lead a very lonely existence. Tamerin admitted that it could be, sometimes, and even though she mentioned a few times that Jayce was all the family she had that counted, the way he usually bumped into her near the window that faced the city had Throttle suspecting that there was someone out there that she missed terribly. And speaking of Jayce; aside from chasing them away from the infirmary, he also showed signs of being extra protective of his sister, which Throttle thought was a little strange since he was the younger of the two.

He had eaten right before taking his nap so, having nothing else to do, Throttle wandered out of the dining area and over to the transporter room. Trent regarded him with an absent greeting, while across the room he heard the distinct voice of Tamerin exclaim quietly about something.

"Finally," she grunted, followed by the loud tap of her fingers on a keyboard. "Report finished and sent off to the General."

The word sent something unpleasant rippling through him. "Do you send reports off to generals often?" he wondered after he felt his way over to the console she was sitting at.

There was a squeak as she swiveled in her chair. "No," she said, sounding a little tired. "Only to _the_ general. General Bevra, all-star general who has seen the safeguard of our entire species as her personal responsibility since the start of the war. Thanks to us not having any way to detect the shape-shifters yet, any and all encounters with them have to be sent off to military headquarters for study, big or small. Even non-combatants fill out reports these days. Everyone has to do their part to keep us alive."

"Just as long as she doesn't hang around here, I'm happy," Throttle noted, with a grim smile. "I'm not really fond of generals. Or of army as a whole."

Tamerin let out a low chuckle. "That makes two of us." She paused, then said, "I think the Doc wants you."

Throttle would never have known if she hadn't told him. Tiny little Deichan never seemed to make a sound, and she never spoke up if she thought she was interrupting someone. "I just want to see if the implants have fully taken hold," she said, in that gentle voice of hers. "Your body should have adjusted to them by now, and if everything has gone smoothly so far there shouldn't be any problems in the future."

She led him to the infirmary, where she sat him down and did the usual scan. "Everything looks perfect," she noted, sounding pleased. "It should be safe to take the bandage off now. Are you ready?"

"And how."

As soon as he had the Doc's approval, he was grabbing Modo and Rimfire and teleporting home. He was in no mood to return to life as usual, though, so he probably wouldn't stick around for long. He didn't know where he would head after this; he just wanted to disappear from sight for a while.

Speaking of sight, it was with great care that Deichan snipped through the bandages around his eyes and unwound them. Throttle slowly cracked his eyelids, expecting there to be a sting as his new eyes were exposed to light for the first time. Instead, the darkness he had been living in for the past few days melted away and the inside of the infirmary came into perfect focus.

When it turned out that he didn't have any remaining eye tissue to regrow, Throttle had eventually asked if regrowing missing body parts was common practice around here. Deichan had told him yes, it was; Imeerans were amazingly hardy, but they couldn't regenerate lost limbs or internal organs that were damaged beyond repair in battle. So eventually they had created a treatment that did it for them, and when even that didn't work, they had a flesh-like substitute they used, capable of replicating all but the most complex of organs, copying the original organ's features so perfectly he was told that it wasn't likely he would be able to tell the difference.

After looking around slowly for several moments, Throttle got up and hunted for a reflective surface. What he saw mirrored back to him was what looked like the exact eyes he used to have, years ago. They felt so real and natural he really _couldn't_ tell the difference from a set of real eyes and a pair made from...whatever flesh-like substitute these were made from. And he already felt comfortable with them, even though it _did_ feel a little strange to be without sunglasses.

"Do you still have my specs?" he wondered.

Deichan nodded and handed them to him. "Thanks," he told her. "And...well, thanks."

She nodded again, lowering her head shyly. Throttle gave her shoulder a small squeeze, feeling a little brotherly to the petite girl for a moment. Then he left the infirmary and headed across the station to the dining area, where Modo and Rimfire were relaxing. Well, Modo was relaxing, looking content at a table with a steaming cup in one hand and a data pad he was reading in the other. Rimfire, who was slumped in a chair between the windows, looked bored out of his mind.

"Hey," Throttle said casually. "Ready to go?"

Modo looked up--and sat up straighter in surprise. "Recovery is finished now, huh?" He didn't look like he knew what to make of the situation, something that hadn't changed since he first found out what Throttle had done. "What exactly made you want to do this?" he asked in a quiet voice as he got up from the table.

Throttle gave a shrug. "Like I said, it felt like time for a change," he responded. He didn't really have any other reason.

Yawning, Rimfire got up to join them. "Mindless patrol is more exciting than this," he noted, "so let's get going."

As they headed through the corridors to the entrance, Throttle slid his specs back on. He didn't even think about it; it was done before he realized it, it was such a habit. And he didn't really see why he had to give them up, he reasoned, since he had perpetually worn shades since he was in his early teens. It was kind of his thing.

If Modo noticed, he didn't say anything, but Throttle knew that his close friend thought he was nuts to willingly go back under the knife for anything less than a life or death emergency. Throttle had to admit that he had kind of thought he was nuts at the time too, and he probably wouldn't have made the decision if he were in another frame of mind--or if he had another surgeon. Tamerin was right; Deichan was an angel and could make anyone feel relaxed and safe.

As they approached Trent, who was at his usual post, Throttle stopped and stared. Standing around him idly were a handful of other males, including one named Madson, who Throttle had never seen but knew from the sound of his voice; he was the one who told them about all the places they could sleep. He greeted the three of them in a friendly manner and went back to the data pad in his hand, while Throttle continued to stare, perplexed.

Even through the greenish tint of his lenses, everything was in crystal clear clarity. Everything except for Madson, that is. The brown-skinned Imeeran looked funny--oddly blurred around the edges, like a painting that had been smudged while it was still wet. Frowning, he pushed his specs back and rested them on his forehead; Madson jumped into focus.

Frowning harder, Throttle lowered and raised his specs several times, but the result remained the same. Madson looked perfectly normal when they were off and like something you'd see through a foggy windshield when they were on.

"Setting coordinates for Mars," he heard Trent say, though he hardly noticed.

Behind him, he heard a soft step that could only belong to Tamerin. He quickly turned around and grabbed her arm, tugging her to the side as she gave him a bewildered look. A thought had just struck him--a bad one, and he knew he needed to be sure.

"Here," he said, tugging his specs off and handing them to her. "Don't ask, just put them on. And tell me if anything looks weird to you."

Still looking bewildered, Tamerin did what she was told, her lips drawing into a thin frown as she scanned the room. Suddenly she gave a start. "Madson..."

With disbelief, she tugged the specs back off, brow burrowed. Then her expression smoothed, turning oddly calm--and stony. Passing the specs back, she lifted her wrist and tapped a button on her communicator. "Madson, what's your current position?" she asked in a normal, even voice.

Everyone stopped and turned to stare at her--including Madson. Or something that looked like him. "I'm still on that provision run you sent me on last week," came a voice through the tiny speaker. "I should be back in a day or two."

Trent was already leaping into motion, flying to his feet as he whipped a blaster from his belt. Throttle felt a hand on his shoulder--and then he was sprawling to the floor. Laser-fire squealed over his head.

When it cleared, he looked up to see a blackish wisp of smoke on the spot where the phony Madson had stood. It vanished a moment or two later; Tamerin wordlessly put her laser pistol away. She then extended a hand casually. Throttle took it and she effortlessly helped him to his feet before holding out her other hand, palm lifted expectantly.

Throttle passed her his specs; her long fingers curled around them as she spun on her heel. "You can have these back after our resident genius analyzes them in the tech lab," she said as she marched down the corridor.

"The who in the what?" said Rimfire, sounding confused.

Throttle was too; she never mentioned a tech lab before. Tamerin let out an airy laugh. "AKA the Doc in the back corner of the infirmary. I told you, she can do anything."


	12. Chapter 12

After Tamerin ran off with his specs, Throttle decided they may as well wait to see what the test results were before they took off. Not that he couldn't just head home and grab a new pair of normal sunglasses now...but a shape-shifter _had_ come to Mars, for reasons he didn't really understand beyond Tamerin saying that it wanted 'information' and was willing to casually get him executed for treason to get it.

He felt it was something worth asking a few more questions about, in case more showed up in the future. So while they waited, the three of them relaxed in the dining area, which was buzzing quietly about what just happened.

Tamerin came in a short time later and joined them at the table they were quietly snacking at. "So, you see how easily they can sneak in here, even after all the precautions we've taken," she commented, though her tone wasn't particularly unhappy. Throttle supposed it was because no one had been hurt, which he thought was odd considering what she had told them before.

"How long do you think that one was here?" he wondered.

"About half a week, according to Trent," Tamerin responded. "Back when they first attacked us, they didn't even bother changing form since we weren't expecting it, and later when they first started posing as one of our own, it was only long enough to slip in and start firing. Now, they wait patiently for a chance and take great pains in emulating whoever they're posing as, down to the last detail. On top of that, they can somehow simulate the mental imprint of whoever they've taken form of, too."

"Mental imprint?" Rimfire repeated, looking puzzled.

Tamerin flashed him a brief smile and waved the bartender over, ordering a fresh round of cold drinks for all of them before continuing. "All minds are different and wholly unique to the person," she explained. "And you'd think a race who can easily pick out strong thoughts and emotions just by touch wouldn't be easily fooled by impostors, especially when they know another mind as well as their own, but however they do it, the shape-shifters can imitate the basic mental patterns of someone so accurately we've yet to figure out a way to see around it."

"You can read minds just by touching someone?" Throttle asked in surprise.

"Not outright mind reading, no. But physical contact enables us to share strong emotions and get a basic idea where a person's mind is at without actually seeing their thoughts--and like any skill there are some of us who are better at this than others. It's very convenient for us, actually, since it lets us pass information quickly. No need to ask someone how they're doing," she said with a grin. "Just tap their hand as you go by and you'll know."

That explained all those light touches that went on around here. If used properly, it probably made a pretty sophisticated form of non-verbal communication, Throttle thought.

"Why do you think that one stuck around quietly for so long?" he wondered, after taking a sip of his drink. "You said they usually start blasting as soon as they work their way inside."

"Usually," Tamerin agreed. "But that one wasn't sent here just to kill, apparently. Trent says it was asking about the computer we use to communicate with the military base, something that only Trent, Jayce and myself know how to use, since the system is carefully encrypted."

"So it sounds like they're switching tactics," Modo commented.

"Exactly. That computer, as you can imagine, has a lot of vital information. I don't know if any of it can actually be used against us, but it's definitely worth noting that they're looking for other methods to help them wipe us out."

The thought made Throttle sit back with a frown. "And they've never given any sign of why they want to?"

Tamerin shook her head, her gaze lowering to the glass in her hand. "None. As I mentioned before, we're not really Imeerans. Mock-Imeeran was what the original group used to call themselves, but it was eventually decided to just call ourselves Imeeran. It's not like the real ones are using the name anymore."

"Why's that?" Modo wondered.

"You want the whole story?" Tamerin asked, setting her glass down and resting her folded arms on the table top. "It's like this; the real Imeerans were an advanced race that was slowly dying out. We're not sure how or why they were dying out, but they saw their inevitable doom coming, so they got started on creating a super-species to take their place in the universe, encoded with all of their personal drives and goals. What they got instead was us--a colossal failure."

"You don't look too failed to me," Rimfire noted, his eyes full of appreciation.

"Well, thank you. We're designed to be that way, you know. They gathered genetic information from thousands of species all across the galaxies, extracting what they thought was the best each one had to offer. We're actually kind of a grotesque blend of countless alien races and the finer characteristics of various animal species. Then they somehow programmed our reproductive systems to recreate the specific features they wanted us to have, so we only come out looking the way we do, even though we've never been able to fully trace just how many different races they spliced into us. We might even have a little Martian in us," she added with a grin.

"Just as long as there's no Plutarkian," Modo said, grimacing.

"I've no idea. But we do have gills."

Throttle almost choked on his drink. " _What_?"

"Uh, I thought you were, you know...warm blooded mammals," Rimfire commented, nose wrinkled.

"We are and we aren't. We share characteristics with mammals and reptiles and we can breathe almost any atmosphere--or underwater, if we have to. It's how they wanted us; strong, fast, intelligent, and capable of adapting and surviving almost anywhere. There was just one problem."

She smiled again, a little grimly, Throttle felt. "They also wanted us to be completely obedient to them while they were still alive, and to look upon them like gods once they were gone, forever preserving their memory. When they thought they had finally perfected our design, they created fifty of us; twenty-five males and twenty-five females. Only instead of listening to orders, that fifty did nothing but test their boundaries and look for ways to escape. They were supposed to talk, but they never said a word, instead developing non-verbal forms of communication no one else could follow. And they were supposed to breed and be prosperous, but instead they refused to mate, period, let alone actually procreate."

She paused to take a sip of her drink. "Finally," she continued, "it was decided that the project was un-salvageable and they had to start over, and the fifty beings they created were to be disposed of. But by then their little failures had worked out an escape plan, though only twenty actually made it. They stole a ship and fled the space station the Imeerans had made them on, setting out for the first safe planet they could find. Eventually they passed by Malteria and got caught in the gravitational pull. The ship crashed and wasn't powerful enough to leave the planet even if it could still fly, and the surface, as you know, is far too toxic to inhabit.

"Now, I'd like to say that we invented the transport technology that we use, but we didn't. The original Imeerans did, and there was a small unit kept on the ship. This and other equipment the twenty were able to salvage allowed them to move out of the ship and into the ocean, where they built the first pod."

"You've built up a lot since then," Throttle noted. 

"Building an underwater city was a lot faster than building up the species, that was for sure," she agreed. "Out of that original twenty, only four of them were female. And even though the original plan was for us to operate in an alpha male kind of way, with any male mating with as many females as he wanted and then leaving all the offspring to female care, something ingrained in us keeps us from doing things any differently now than the twenty did back then: mate for love, and mate for life."

She took another sip. "Naturally, this left a lot of leftover, lonely males in those first years, but they were eventually able to pair off with the offspring the others created once they grew up. Which I know probably sounds a little strange, but with the way we age, we don't really worry about how much or how little someone has been alive once they become an adult. Differences in years aren't really important to us."

Throttle rested back in his seat as he took a moment to process all this. It was a strange beginning, but they had obviously long since adapted to their situation and developed their own way of life. "Speaking of years, how long have you been here?"

"Just shy of a thousand." Tamerin's expression turned solemn, and she absently pushed her empty glass away. "The last of the original twenty died in an attack four years ago," she noted sadly.

"Quite a lifespan," said Modo, sounding impressed.

"Indeed. Another one of our fine attributes. Our cells are always renewing themselves, so once we stop growing, we stop aging. We're immune to virtually any disease. We can heal almost any injury short of regrowing lost limbs, and even injuries that are generally fatal sometimes still aren't enough to get rid of us. When we're hit with something we can't heal normally, our bodies shut down into a coma-like state and regenerate themselves. Not that we can survive anything, mind you. A lot of us have died in the last thirty years, though no one has ever died of old age."

"Can you?" wondered Rimfire, who had his chin rested on his palms and looked a little awed by all this.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. But I tend to think not."

This comment made Throttle remember something. "So, when you joked about Deichan being two hundred years old..."

Tamerin smirked. "No joke. Trust me, beyond children you should never try to guess our ages by our looks."

His expression still impressed, Modo tossed back the last of his drink, swallowing noisily. "Speakin' of children, when this war is over, I imagine there'll be a lot of them popping up in a hurry," he mused.

"No doubt," Tamerin agreed. "But as I said, we don't know why the shape-shifters have it out for us, or how we can drive them off for good. We don't exactly have a lot of contact with other races down here, and beyond the short intergalactic trips we've taken over the years, we rarely step off planet. We've done it a lot more in recent years, but that's because we need to gather rations and supplies right now, and we have to monitor enemy movement. No, them crashing down on us was a completely unprovoked attack given without any warning. They have small, inconspicuous bases on other planets, but their actions are a lot sneakier in other places. Generally they take what they want--information or resources--and then leave without anyone being the wiser."

"Strange then how they picked you for mass genocide," Modo noted, his voice full of sympathy.

"We think so too. If whatever they wanted was just to set up an outpost on the surface or to mine resources or something, we would have told them 'knock yourselves out up there' and left it at that. Whatever reason they have for wanting us gone, it isn't because they want something from this planet."

"What about Mars?" Throttle asked. "Just what was that one that impersonated me out to get?"

"Like I mentioned before, they like to gather information, especially information about the strengths and weaknesses of different planets," Tamerin explained. "We don't know if they have any allies, so we can only assume that they want to be prepared for anyone who might be their enemy someday."

"So, they don't indiscriminately attack everyone, then."

Tamerin shook her head. "Just us, apparently. And don't think we haven't tried the diplomatic approach. In the beginning, we tried endlessly to speak to and reason with them, but we were ignored. And the only time we ever hear them say anything we can understand is when they take on another form, so we suspect that their native language is too primitive--or maybe even too advanced--for us to understand. But if we could reach some kind of agreement, we would. We're all tired of living like this; we want life to go back to the way it was."

"We thought the same thing, once," Modo murmured quietly.

"And we'll do anything we can to help," Rimfire added.

Tamerin flashed a tired smile. "Thanks."

"How old were you?" Throttle asked quietly. "When all this started, I mean."

He had originally pegged her as being in her mid-twenties or so, but now that he knew about the lack of aging they did around here...

"I was thirty," she said. "Jayce was ten, and since then the only other, well, other worlders he's ever really met were the babies that crashed here, and another baby brought here nineteen years ago. He doesn't like venturing off planet either, so his dealings with other species are as low as his opinion of them."

"Can't really blame him, bein' so young when this started," Modo commented. "We'll be sure not to do anything to rile him."

"Don't hold your breath. You're not our first visitors, and when the last ones left, he rejoiced. He has some pretty big trust issues."

"Like Modo said, we don't blame him," Throttle said.

Tamerin grew quiet for a moment. Her eyes had turned distant. "A lot of it has to do with our father's death. We've always had military here, and our father was an engineer who specialized in traveling to the surface and studying the terrain and the local wildlife. He was one of the first fatalities during the initial attack. Jayce saw it happen."

Rimfire cringed in sympathy. "What about your mother?" Throttle asked gently.

"She's alive...so to speak. After that day she put her heart away where no one would ever find it again. She's the exact opposite of warm and friendly these days, and she treats everyone around her with cold indifference. Jayce and I are no exception. It's the only way she can keep going."

Throttle was glad, then, that she and Jayce seemed so close, even if he wasn't fond of anyone else. Not anyone from another planet, anyway.

One of the male guards suddenly hurried into the room and beckoned to Tamerin. "Can you come to the infirmary?" he asked, a note of restrained excitement in his voice. "The Doc says she's discovered something that might help turn this war around."


	13. Chapter 13

Curiosity had the three of them tagging along while Tamerin went and stood next to the petite doctor, who was sitting at a work station at the back of the infirmary. A few equally curious guards joined them, clustering behind Tamerin and peering over her shoulders, while Modo hung at the back since he could easily see over their heads. Tamerin folded her arms, while Deichan-ma'am swiveled in her seat to face her. "So, what's the verdict, Doc?" Tamerin asked.

"I ran every test I could think of," Deichan answered, as she turned back to face her work area. There was a keyboard and a small screen, and a slightly elevated pad that had Throttle's specs sitting on it. A small machine hooked up to a scanning laser was suspended over them. "I went through every visual filter I possibly could, and the only one that shows a blurry effect like the one you described is when the subject is extremely dense on the molecular level."

Tamerin blinked once. "So, our enemy has high molecular density?" she repeated, sounding puzzled.

"I was as surprised as you. Given how liquidy they are and how fast they move around, I always assumed they were very light. But according to the numbers I ran, they must all weigh a considerable amount. I doubt they enjoy having to battle us so close to such a vast ocean," she went on. "I can't imagine they would last long in water, since they would probably sink like a stone. Changing form won't alter how dense their bodies are."

Tamerin clucked her tongue. "Just shows how determined they are to get rid of us," she said grimly. 

"What's the plan, then?" Modo wondered.

Even if Throttle was willing to part with them, one little pair of Martian field specs wasn't going to do much good. 

Deichan-ma'am looked up from the work space in front of her, which was littered with tools, and flashed a smile. "I'm working on it," she reported. "In fact, I've about finished it."

She picked up a small tool that looked like a screwdriver as thick as a strand of hair, fiddled with something for a moment, then lifted a silver ball between her thumb and forefinger and passed it to Tamerin, who held it in the same way. She twisted it this way and that for a moment--something pointy and slender was poking out of one side--before squeezing it slightly; a translucent blue beam, narrow and slightly curved and about the length of a person's face, extended from the stud. Letters and numbers moved up and down the edges of the beam, counting and calculating the things in its view.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you are a genius, Doc."

The petite doctor flushed with pride, while Tamerin suddenly frowned. "But did you have to design it into an earring? My ears aren't pierced."

Throttle suddenly snickered. "Doesn't hurt _that_ much," he teased.

"No Ma'am," agreed Modo, with mock-solemnity.

She rolled her eyes at them. "I'm sure, but they're annoying to keep up since the holes will close up if they're not kept in all the time. Imeeran flesh is stubborn that way."

"It's do-able," said Deichan simply, as she reached up to pull a tiny earring that glittered like a star out of her right ear before putting in the much fatter silver stud. She tapped it with a finger, turning the beam stretching across her eyes off. "I wanted to use something that could easily be worn at all times," she explained. "It'll take some time with my limited equipment here, but I can make more."

"You do that," said Tamerin, with approval. "And somebody should alert the General."

Deichan glanced at her, one eyebrow lifted, before turning back to her work. Tamerin let out a quiet groan. "Do I _have_ to?"

"No one reports in better than you," said Deichan, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Grunting, Tamerin turned and headed for the door; the others in the room quietly dispersed. "You guys coming?" she asked the Martian trio behind her. "After I'm done chatting with her Generalship I'll send you home, if you're ready."

After Throttle took a moment to grab his specs and slip them on, the three of them followed her. "I miss my bike," Throttle suddenly commented.

"I miss my bike and my mama," Modo added.

They both glanced at Rimfire, who merely shrugged and looked back over his shoulder. Through the infirmary doorway, Modo saw Deichan-ma'am glance over her own shoulder and wave shyly; grinning, Rimfire waved in return. Snorting, Modo put a hand on his arm and turned him so he faced forward again. "I told you, you're--"

"If you say _one_ more time that I'm too young, I'm going to punch you," Rimfire threatened.

The thought made his uncle chuckle, deeply amused. "I'd like to see you try, boy. I'd like to see you try."

* * *

In the entry room, Tamerin plunked down at the back console and started tapping keys, inputting the complex code that linked her with the military base. A minute or so later the screen flickered and an image of an Imeeran female appeared. Her skin was the same snow white as Tamerin's, only it looked even more lustrous, putting Throttle in mind of actual snow and how it glistened in the light. Her hair was the reddest of reds, as glossy and shimmery as the surface of a ruby. Her eyes were like liquid amber, and they had those distinct rings that seemed to be one of the defining Imeeran characteristics around the pupil and iris; a bright copper color, like a polished penny.

She was beautiful, but her expression was hard and emotionless. "Twice in one day?" she noted, in a voice that sounded vaguely disconnected. "Who died?"

Tamerin visibly bristled. "Not funny. I've got important news, General, that I wanted to pass on to you directly."

"So pass it."

Tamerin took a breath and rushed ahead. "Another one got in, but we took care of it. We also made a discovery; their race is extremely dense, something that's visible when scanned on the molecular level. We've also devised a method that can scan for them easily."

Something flickered across the deadpan face on the monitor. "Wait. Are you saying that you've found a way to detect them? Visually?"

"That's the breakthrough. Deichan is working on replicating something now, though it'll be a little difficult to send it off to the base once she's finished."

For a moment General Bevra said nothing. Then, with a touch of thoughtfulness in her expression, she said, "We'll start with my men, but before this week is out I want every last citizen equipped with one of those. They're not taking us by surprise again."

"Like I said, that'll be difficult to pull off, considering."

"Well, we'll just have to put it to a vote then, won't we?"

The screen flickered and went dark. Tamerin rested back in her seat, eyes distant, while across the room Trent let out his breath in a rush, like he had been holding it. "I was hoping she would say that."

* * *

Charley let out a quiet yawn before rolling over and resting her head on Vinnie's chest. "You know," she commented lazily, "we had better watch it, or we're going to end up making Vector a big brother."

Vinnie snickered as he slid his soft hand to the small of her back and tugged her closer. "Hey, works for me. I like this whole being a dad thing."

Charley smiled and absently drew her fingers up and down his middle as she gazed lovingly as his face. "Why'd you go nuts like that, anyway?" she wondered.

She had gone to work today as usual, leaving Vinnie alone to take care of Vector for the afternoon. When she got home this evening, Vinnie had met her at the door--and then pounced on her, threw her over his shoulder and ran to the bedroom. He was in such a hurry to rip her clothes off and make love to her they didn't even make it into bed, instead tumbling to the floor to couple on the rug.

"I think the hair had something to do with it," he teased as he drew his fingers through her short locks.

On her way home from work, Charley had passed by a salon--and the next thing she knew she was sitting inside, getting her closely-cropped hair dyed back to its normal color. It turned out a little darker than her natural red-brown, so the stylist had added a few coppery highlights and called it good. Charley was looking forward to how it would look once it started to grow out again.

She had put on less makeup today, too. None of that was important anymore; she just wanted to be herself, and be with the mouse she loved.

Her heart swelling with affection, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Vinnie pulled her even closer to him, the touch of his fur warming her skin, the beat of his heart keeping time with hers. Across the apartment there was a rattling sound, followed by a happy voice. "Mommy!"

Vinnie let out a chuckle. "Sounds like our big boy woke up from his nap."

Charley felt reluctant to pull away from Vinnie right now, but at the same time she was eager to watch him spend time with their son. There was something so sweet and beautiful about the sight of the two of them together, she never got tired of looking at them.

"You're going to have to teach him to say 'daddy' pretty soon," Vinnie noted as he tugged his jeans back on.

"Do I have to?" Charley asked, eyes dancing.

Vinnie smiled, a bit smugly, as he fastened his belt. "Hey, the sooner you do, the sooner he'll start yelling for me when he needs something, which means you'll get more sleep at night. Now that's my idea of family life," he said, with a happy sigh. "Spend hours making love to my Charley-girl and then rocking my son to sleep. Heaven."

Charley paused pulling her robe on and looked at him. He stopped talking after that, which was probably a good thing; after a proclamation like that she was about a second away from pouncing on _him_. Not bothering to put anything else on, Vinnie headed barefoot to the living room with a happy whistle. Charley finished tying her robe and hurried after.

In the living room, Vector was standing up in his playpen, happily waving his favorite rattle. His face lit up when he saw her, and he dropped the rattle as he raised his arms expectantly. "Up," he begged, bouncing a little.

Laughing, Charley lifted him and cuddled him to her shoulder, kissing the top of his downy head. "You hungry, sweetie? Mommy will you find some dinner."

The kitchen was basically part of the living room, separated by a long counter. This left a free and unobstructed view of the living room and the little area by the front door--a real mom's eye view.

"Can I feed him?" Vinnie asked eagerly as she was putting some baby veggies and nibble-sized hot dogs on the stove to warm.

First Vinnie had asked if he could tuck him in his crib at night, and then he wanted her to show him how to change his diaper, and now he wanted to feed him? Even though he already fed him during the day while she was at work? Okay, first chance she got she was dragging this mouse off and marrying him. She didn't even know if Martians got married the same way Earthlings did, and she didn't care. She wanted to publicly vow to love and stay with him forever.

After everything finished warming, she separated the veggies and hot dogs into the compartments of Vector's favorite plastic bowl--the one with the little clown on it--then placed Vector in his highchair and put the bowl and a spoon on the tray, followed by a sippy cup of juice. "Knock yourself out," she told Vinnie.

Vinnie eagerly took a seat at the kitchen table, and Vector happily accepted everything that was spooned into his tiny mouth. Charley watched them for a while, but they both looked relaxed and content, so she eventually turned away with a smile and started on dinner for her and Vinnie. As she was setting the table, the last of the clown bowl was scraped and then, without being told, Vinnie carefully lifted their son, propped him on his shoulder and patted him gently until he let out a delicate burp.

Vinnie laughed. "You're going to have to dig deeper than that, big guy, if you're going to unleash the big ones."

"Hey, no teaching him any bad behavior," Charley said, pretending to be stern. "And he's kind of big to be burped.

"Says you." Laughing again, Vinnie kissed Vector on his forehead and carried him back to his playpen. "Don't worry, I'll save that kind of training for when he's a little older," he teased as he rejoined her in the kitchen.

Charley pretended to pout and chucked a potholder at him; Vinnie dodged easily and slid his arms around her waist with a chuckle. "I think this is what they call domestic bliss," he noted, resting his chin on her shoulder with a happy sigh.

"You sure it isn't too boring for you?" Charley wondered.

Vinnie softly kissed her cheek. "Never."


	14. Chapter 14

_She was robbed of her innocence_  
_Had no more time to play_  
_She's only a little girl_  
_But she's stronger than the flames_  
~My Little Phoenix;  Tarja

About an hour later, everyone in the guard station was clustered at the back of the room by the main computer console. They were clearly waiting anxiously for something, speaking in low tones and fidgeting as they stared down at the blank screen, as if they were trying to will it to come to life.

Throttle adjusted his specs. "We'll be going now, if that's all right."

Tamerin looked away from the screen--with obvious reluctance--and scurried over to him. She always moved with such natural grace, it was kind of funny to see her scurry like a little kid. Her abalone blue eyes were shining. "You sure you want to leave now?" she asked. "You said you were looking for a fun distraction, and I know we weren't exactly able to supply that, but..."

She looked over her shoulder. "That's about to change."

Throttle followed her gaze to the control panel. "Why's that?"

"Remember that system I said was integrated into every business and home throughout the colony?"

Throttle remembered. "You mean the one you guys don't have?"

"Yes, that one. But as I said, we're still linked up directly to the central base, and that's good enough. You see," she went on, glancing over again, "whenever there's a big decision to make around here, we put it to a vote. And I don't just mean by the big guys in charge--everyone gets their say. A signal goes out into the system to let people know that something important is coming through, and then they vote whichever way they think is best for everyone. Young or old, combatant or not, it doesn't matter. No voice goes unheard."

"Is that how you decided to seal off the colony?" Modo wondered.

"Exactly."

There was a beeping sound from the computer; the main screen lit up brightly and started to scrawl lines of text. When it finished, Trent reached over and typed something on the keypad next to the monitor, then stepped back. The rest of the guards took their turns, followed by Deichan and Jayce. Tamerin, after giving herself a little shake, went last. A moment or two later the screen darkened again.

"How long does it usually take to decide something like this?" asked Rimfire.

Tamerin stepped back from the computer and smiled faintly at him. "However long it takes for the entire colony to vote. Ten to thirty minutes, usually."

This time, it took four.

"Well, how about that," said Tamerin, sounding a trifle dazed. "Unanimous."

Trent gave a hop and ran off to the room with the bunks. "I'm going to grab my stuff," he cried happily.

Deichan looked flustered. "I have a lot of important equipment here that's going to take time to move," she said.

"Hey, don't sweat it," Tamerin told her. "Just contact all your nurses and fellow physicians at the hospital. You know they'll come running."

After lightly thumping the tiny girl on the shoulder, Tamerin turned to her brother. "I'm kind of surprised we didn't get one negative, considering what a ray of sunshine you've been lately," she commented.

"That may be true," Jayce said coolly, "but I still know that we're stronger together. We always have been."

He stepped past his sister and left the room. "So, what happens now?" Rimfire asked as the room rapidly emptied after Jayce.

Tamerin gestured at the nearest window. "See for yourself."

It was quite a sight to behold. While the main city glowed brightly, the other pods and structures looked dark and all but faded into the blue of the water. Now they lit up with white light, a light that centered around the sealed portals. As the three of them watched, clear tubes extended from the city as well as the pods, curving to meet somewhere in the middle. When they connected, the tubes lit up like there was some kind of phosphorescence directly inside the material that made up their clear curved walls.

When each tube was connected and illuminated, the sealed doors swirled open, one by one. The glow of the city had already been impressive, but now there was a sense of wholeness, of being complete. There was something comforting and inviting about the sight.

In the station, the guards packed in record time and were itching to go. "The first thing I'm going to do," Trent said, "is grab my mate, run off to the nearest corner and have some long overdue sex."

"And if she's fertile?" someone asked.

"Then I'll sit outside our home crying and _think_ about having long overdue sex."

And then they were gone, racing down the corridor and into the phosphorescent tube. In the rows of tubes visible outside the window, streams of colorful figures could be seen doing the same. No one seemed to be walking right now.

"I voted yes," Jayce commented as he rejoined Tamerin, who was also packed and ready to go, "but I personally had all I needed to keep me happy right here."

"Yes, yes," said Tamerin, sounding impatient. "As long as you have your pink little angel, you're ecstatic."

Jayce flushed visibly through his dark skin. " _Tam_..."

"Oh, go help her pack already. As for me, I've got a job I need to get back to. A year doesn't make much difference for anyone else around here, but me..."

She looked ready to bolt, but she stopped to look the waiting Martian trio over. "I'll send you back now if that's what you want," she told them, "but if you're looking for a little fun, I think you might find something acceptably distracting in the city."

Throttle figured that too, and was willing to look about now. "What've you got?"

"Honestly? A little of everything. We don't really have our own culture here, so in our inter-galactic travels over the years, we've kind of adopted our favorites from different worlds and melded them into our own uses. Even if you don't find anything to keep you entertained, you'll still waste a few days looking."

Throttle looked at Modo, who shrugged and smiled. "Sounds good to me, bro."

"Me too," agreed Rimfire.

With a smile, Tamerin adjusted the bag on her shoulder and gestured to the tube. "Well then, gentlemen, allow me to show you the _real_ undercity."

* * *

Modo had to give Tamerin credit for self-control. She was obviously bursting with excitement and ready to take off running like everyone else, but she kept calm and led them at a normal pace down the glass-like tube. It was a little strange, but it didn't feel claustrophobic or weird, like they were trapped. The outside of the tube was round, but the inside walls were shaped like a cube, so the floor was flat and easy to walk on. Outside in the ocean, fish and other sea-life darted around them curiously. Something that looked like a jellyfish slid lazily by, brushing against the clear surface of the tube, making the light illuminate its pinkish body so it glowed.

When they emerged through the other side of the tube, they stepped out onto what looked like a street made from glossy black tiles, each one roughly ten-by-ten feet around. A clear substance was visible between each tile, like bathroom grouting...only it glowed faintly from within. The rest of the city was glowing too; lights of every color shone from the tops of posts and through windows; neon signs floated in the air and blinked and flashed as they rotated; pathways of clear glass that glowed like the tubes outside stretched out above their heads, connecting to what looked like a second level of the city.

The buildings that surrounded them came in every size, shape, and color. Some were short and square, some were tall and thin, and some were squat and dome-shaped. One characteristic they all seemed to share was that they were either entirely clear or they were covered in multiple large windows. Such transparency gave the place a very open, friendly kind of feeling. Like no one here had anything to hide or any reason to turn anyone away. It made the place feel a little cozy, even though it was so big and flashy.

Tamerin paused to point out different places down the glossy black streets. "There's a park and garden down that way," she said, "and over there is my favorite restaurant."

The building she pointed to was square and had dark outer walls that gleamed like they had been polished. There was another neon sign above its open door, bright red and written in letters Modo couldn't understand. "They don't have root beer," she added with a grin, "but they do have hot dogs."

"Sounds like a good place to start to me," noted Rimfire eagerly.

"I'll meet you somewhere around here later, then. I'd show you more, but I really need to get to Stardust House."

"What's that?" Modo wondered.

Tamerin adjusted her hold on her bag, looking distracted. "The orphanage."

"Oh." A light dawned. "Is that where you work?"

"Yes. I founded it myself nineteen years ago."

It sounded like there was more to the story, but instead of adding anything she said a quick goodbye and ran off. The three of them headed into the restaurant, which was full of enticing smells. The walls were a dark brown, with raised lettering etched in white that almost looked like figures seen in Eastern writing from Earth. Tube-shaped bulbs were attached to the walls at evenly spaced intervals and gave off a slightly pinkish light, and square-shaped panels in the white ceiling glowed softly. If he had to hazard a guess, Modo would say that the Imeerans had a fondness for florescent and neon lights.

The white glass bar-top at the side of the room glowed just like the ceiling. The place had a nice atmosphere, but no one seemed to be interested in dining here right now. Everyone was busy running home, or running out to meet their loved ones as they returned.

A male Imeeran was behind the bar, though, and a waitress eyed them from across the room as she wiped off a table. They were both equally attractive, and siblings, judging by the strong resemblance between them. It appeared that Tamerin was right about Imeerans never being anything less than good looking. He wondered if it ever got boring.

The waitress finished cleaning the table and approached them. "Didn't know we had Martian visitors," she commented, though she didn't sound worried. "Make yourselves comfortable. We have a few Martian dishes."

"Actually, we'd rather have hot dogs," Modo said as the three of them sat down at one of the small, round tables. The table top was black and smooth, as were the chair seats. The table legs, chair legs and chair backs were smooth metal, like polished silver.

The waitress blinked at him. "Hot dogs," she repeated. "With relish, onions, or chili?"

Modo was definitely starting to like this place. After they each gave their order--it really was a shame they didn't have root beer, or any type of soft drink, for that matter--she scurried off to the kitchen.

"You don't seem all that surprised by us," Rimfire noted when she came back carrying a round tray laden with mounds of steaming hot dogs. "Do you get Martians in here often?"

"Yes, actually," the waitress responded. "Just the one, though--that little girl from the orphanage. Well, she's not so little anymore. She comes in here all the time. Sweet kid."

"Small galaxy," Rimfire said as the waitress walked away again.

"That's for sure," Modo agreed.

Throttle didn't seem to have much to say, and Modo and Rimfire had wordlessly agreed to give the unhappy mouse his space. He spent the meal--which was pretty good, though the dogs had kind of a wild flavor Modo couldn't quite name--brooding quietly, and after they were finished eating and discussed where to go next, he just kind of shrugged.

As they left the restaurant, there seemed to be a quiet commotion going on outside. Imeerans were milling around in the street in front of the restaurant and on the thresholds of nearby buildings, standing stiffly and looking agitated about something. Frowning, Modo glanced around--and soon figured out why everyone was acting so weird. There was a woman walking--make that marching--by, head high and shoulders straight.

They weren't staring because she was beautiful--even though she was--but because she was the general Tamerin spoke to earlier. Regular citizens stood at attention; low-ranking military saluted. The General gave her hand a wave without looking directly at anyone. "At ease," she ordered absently.

No one visibly eased until she was out of sight. Modo turned to Rimfire to ask him what he felt like doing--but his nephew had disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" Modo asked with a frown.

"No idea," Throttle said, sounding distracted. "Listen, I need a moment alone, okay? I need to clear my head."

"No problem, bro," Modo assured him. Modo watched with quiet concern as his sullen friend headed off and disappeared between the throng of buildings. In the distance, he could see the tops of trees peeking through; probably the park Tamerin mentioned.

Around him, the quietly chattering Imeerans slowly dispersed, until Modo found himself alone. He wasn't sure where to go, but without any threats lurking around at the moment, the city looked bright and welcoming and the citizens were happy. And unlike Jayce, they all seemed perfectly comfortable with visitors, so it seemed safe for him to wander pretty much anywhere.

He followed one of the outside roads for awhile, which curved along near the glass of the dome separating the city from the ocean beyond. Modo paused and looked out through the glass at the set of structures that were just outside. They were much larger than the tiny guard station he had spent the last few days in, and it looked like a place where a lot of people were rushing to or from. Probably the residential areas, he mused.

He continued on and was soon passing by a tiny place tucked amid the larger buildings. It was rectangular in shape and colored eggshell blue, and unlike most other places around here, there weren't any windows. The electronic front door was locked in the open position, and through it he saw that the interior colors were soft, almost pastel. Next to the front door was a monitor screen, which was digitally cycling through a collection of childish drawings. The sound of youthful chatter and laughter drifted from inside. Above the monitor in softly glowing gold letters were the words 'Stardust House.'

A rattling sound suddenly caught his attention, and he turned to see Tamerin approaching the orphanage, pulling a small cart loaded with supplies behind her. Smiling, she let go of the handle and hurried toward him. "You lonely, big guy?" she asked teasingly. "You've come to the right place."

Modo laughed softly and shook his head. "I love kids, but I don't think I'm ready to tackle raisin' one."

"Awww, don't sell yourself short. I've been watching you; you're the softie. You'd spoil a kid rotten and then some."

He laughed again; she was right. "Thanks, but I'm not anxious to be a single parent."

"Not everyone around here has much of a choice," Tamerin pointed out. "Now that the residential block is open, lonely singles--or even couples dying to breed but can't thanks to the war--are going to flock to this place. About time, too. These great kids need a real family."

She glanced over at the orphanage, then looked up at him with a smirk. "Speaking of families...if starting one on your own isn't your thing, there's someone I can introduce you to who might be able to give you a hand with that."

"My, you're subtle today," Modo observed wryly.

Tamerin laughed. "Sorry, I'm on a euphoric high right now. Aside from Jayce, this is my family. My home."

Modo had to smile, she looked so happy. "Glad to hear it. And I've already been told about the mouse girl. I believe the describin' word was 'sweet.'"

Tamerin flashed a smile that was warm and full of affection. "You got that right. Around here, she's second only to Dee when it comes to being angelic, kind and caring. Everybody loves her."

Obviously, Tamerin loved her most of all. "She's right over there," she added as she turned around, "if you'd like to meet her."

Modo followed her gaze--and felt something dark and unpleasant roil inside him that tightened his stomach. He vaguely noticed his muscles tightening along with it as he stared at the figure bent over another cart a few feet from Tamerin's, her back facing him.

Oh, Tamerin, he thought distantly, you said you knew the difference.

The figure was clearly Martian, as marked by the furry arms and long tail. But that pale brown tail was all wrong. It was too thick, the surface slightly pebbled, with a dusting of pale, almost translucent hairs growing along the length of it. The fur on her bare, slender arms was too long and too thick.

"That ain't no mouse," he said lowly, teeth clenched. "That's a rat."

A second after he spoke, the figure straightened and turned around, a small box of food clutched in her slender hands. Modo felt like he'd just been slapped.

She had the body of a small rat, but the face that looked at him was that of a mouse, complete with red antennas. The sight of those two things together left him a little sickened.

"That's..."

It was disgusting, that's what it was. This was something so rare on Mars that there wasn't even a name for it. Mice and rats didn't mingle, period. So _this_ , well, it could only be the result of a damn rat forcing himself on an unwilling mouse. And the results were wrong on so many levels.

"Wrong," he said out loud, shaking his head. "Just...wrong."

Abominably wrong. And he wasn't sure he was interested in hanging around a place that didn't think so. They probably didn't know any better, but...

A finger suddenly tapped his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. Glad for an excuse to look away from--whatever you would call _that_ \--Modo turned around. The next thing he knew there was a fist in his eye.

Pain exploded through his eye socket and white seared across his vision. When his throbbing head cleared again, he found himself lying flat on his back, and there was a foot pressing against his neck. He blinked his bleary eye and found himself staring down the business end of Tamerin's laser pistol.

Above him, Tamerin's face was like an ice storm. "I'm only going to tell you this once," she said, in a voice so low and harsh he almost didn't recognize it. "If you _ever_ insult that little girl again, I'm going to kill you. Is that clear?"

Without waiting for a response--not that he had one ready right now--she pulled her foot away and stomped off. Stunned and in pain--jeez, had she been holding a brick when she punched him?--it was a moment before he could sit up. His head swam and his eye stung, and it was another moment before he was able to stand.

When he did, he expected to find himself alone, but that--well, just 'Martian' seemed an acceptable term for now, because mouse-rat or rat-mouse sounded _so_ wrong--was still standing there, staring at him.

Staring at him with tears streaming down her face. Sniffling, she ducked her head and turned away. "Sorry," he heard her whisper as she ran past him and down the street. "I'm so sorry."


	15. Chapter 15

The large park Throttle eventually wandered into was pretty nice. It was quiet, which was exactly what he wanted right now. His mind wandered as he strolled leisurely along the brick paths that wove around the rows of trees and shrubbery, which looked vaguely like species he had seen both on Earth and back home. There was a lot of plants he had never seen before too, like the curling purple blossoms someone had carefully planted at the base of the trees that were growing at intervals along the path. There were benches and fountains, both the kind for drinking from and the kind that spouted water and housed gleaming fish. In an environment like this, it was easy to forget you were deep underwater if you didn't look up at the dome of glass.

And that was exactly what Throttle wanted to do right now; forget. Forget about what had been, what he had lost, and focus on his future. His future that he could spend alone or with his two bros--whichever suited his fancy at the time. Well, with one of his bros, anyway. As he continued to stroll, he absently wondered what Vinnie was up to right now.

The park was empty of people, but he wasn't completely alone. There was wildlife here, in the form of small furred animals and tiny birds that chirped on tree branches. One bird in particular stood out; unlike the other birds hopping around, taking off skittishly and were no bigger than his pinkie, this one was pretty large and sat calmly as he approached. It reminded him of pet parrots he'd seen back on Earth.

Its beak was black and straight, its eyes large and dark. Its feathers were a brilliant scarlet and orange, with a long tail and head plumes. Its feet were large and black, with sharp-looking claws that curled around the wooden stand it was perched on. It was clearly docile, and as Throttle drew nearer, it dipped its head and cocked it at him, like a dog begging to be scratched. Mildly amused, Throttle rubbed a finger over its plump breast; its feathers puffed up a little, like it was flush with happiness.

Aside from the quiet chirps of the other birds, the only sound he could hear was the quiet rush of the fountains; this place was far enough away from the bustle of the city that he couldn't really hear it. With a sudden churring sound, the bird pulled back from his finger and cocked its head to the side, as if it were looking at something behind him.

Throttle turned around and saw Tamerin coming up the path, but judging by the distant look on her face, she wasn't looking for him--or anyone, for that matter. Like him, she looked like she wanted to be alone right now.

Her eyes were gazing ocean-ward and looked a little cloudy, but they cleared when she spotted him. She paused by the nearby fountain, hands tucked in her back pockets. "Sorry...looking for someplace to reflect?"

"Pretty much. You?"

He couldn't really tell just by looking at her what she was up to. She had changed and was now sporting a pair of snug gray pants with a silver belt buckle, black calf-length boots, and a maroon blouse with loose sleeves that gathered snugly at the wrist, making them billow a little as she moved. The upper part of the blouse hung so her shoulders were left bare, with a black strap covered in silver studs crossing over her shoulders and around the back of her neck. The dark colors made her snow-white skin seem to glow, like it was lit from within.

No denying it; Tamerin was a gorgeous creature. Not that he _had_ denied it, but...there was something about her right now--a wildness only loosely contained beneath her calm demeanor--that made him want to keep his distance. It made him nervous in a way he didn't want to think about right now.

She let out a sigh and blew a lock of hair away from her eyes. "Trying to blow off steam," she muttered. "Want to help?"

Throttle hesitated. Tamerin tapped her foot impatiently. "Oh, come on. The best type of distraction is loud noise and flashing lights. Trust me."

Without waiting for him to respond, she tugged her hands out of her pockets, grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the park. He was reminded again how surprisingly strong she was--not that he worked that hard at pulling away. He was willing to try to drown his thoughts in noise, since silence didn't seem to be working. She tugged him down one glossy tiled street and up another, eventually leading him to a glass elevator shaft. It was round and clear, and lights darted up the length repeatedly--or down, depending on which direction the lift was headed. Tamerin tugged him inside and pushed a button with an arrow pointing up.

Virtually everything here in the city had the same soft-edged look that the guard station had; every surface was either rounded or curved, leaving no harsh lines to be seen. As he had already seen from below, the upper level of the city was built up on a clear floor, and the pathways that wove around and between the buildings were alternately wide or narrow. Down below, most of the businesses he had seen had been just that; business. Up here, it looked like everything was designed for fun.

There were dozens of mini food courts and cafés peddling sweets, shops and carts loaded with toys and games, and several flashy buildings had music pumping out of them. It was brighter up here, and busier than the lower level. Imeerans in the heart of celebrating over being reunited with their friends and loved ones were flocking here, and they darted up and down the smooth pathways with noisy chatter and laughter. Many who ran by him looked like a couple, hands clasped tightly and faces aglow with joy.

As he watched them all quietly, Throttle noticed that even though they didn't seem to come with looks that were anything less than pretty, they came in a large variety of colors and sizes. Some of the females were even smaller than Deichan but were clearly adults, while some of the males were as big as Modo. There were small males too, and big, muscular females. Now that he had seen a larger portion of the population, Throttle noted that Tamerin looked like she was of average female height, but she had a more athletic, muscular build than most.

One thing they all shared was a look of happiness....which kind of made him wonder if coming up here was a mistake. He wasn't in the mood to laugh and have fun. But Tamerin obstinately pushed him into one of the largest buildings in sight--a dome-shaped structure with a shiny silver-black outer surface and rows of tiny lights curved around the arched doorway. Inside there was music playing--it sounded like technopop--the smell of salty and sweet food was in the air, and there was the distinct clack of fat plastic buttons being pounded.

The walls were dark and covered with window-shaped light panels, which flashed and changed colors frequently. And there were what looked like game machines everywhere--like an arcade on Earth. Imeerans as colorful as the lights and décor were laughing as they competed over the games, or danced out on the dance floor, the transparent tiles changing color beneath their feet. There was even a small stage for patrons who felt like preforming a song or playing one of the instruments.

Beside him, it looked like Tamerin's mood had changed completely, turning quietly elated, her eyes glittering with eagerness--and he remembered that she had been locked out of the city for over a year, so this was the first time she was stepping into this place in just as much time. Clearly she was crazy about it, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes eagerly questioning what he thought, he suddenly knew that if he told her he wanted to leave, she would take him somewhere else, no matter how badly she wanted to stay.

"Well? What do you think?"

"It doesn't suck," he allowed.

Laughing, she punched his shoulder. "Nice. It's designed with elements from Western arcades and Japanese karaoke bars and pachinko parlors."

Throttle had heard about other cities and countries on Earth, but he had never really had a chance to see them. It was funny to think how so many different places existed on one planet, with a culture and people so unique it made visitors from the same planet feel like they were stepping into another world. But then, Earth had a much bigger population than Mars did.

"You've been to Japan?" he wondered.

Tamerin's abalone blue eyes were shining. "I _love_ Japan," she proclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. "It was the first place I visited when I was sent on my first scouting mission. I go back there every chance I get."

She looked over at a nearby game, where two players had to compete with each other via sitting in two chairs opposite each other and looking at opposite sides of the same transparent screen. Laser-like images flickered across it. "Think you can handle me, hot shot?" she asked slyly.

Throttle smirked. "I can always try."

* * *

Modo was still in pain. His eye throbbed and his vision kept blurring, and a sharp stinging sensation lingered inside his skull, right behind his eyeball. He hung around outside the orphanage for a while, waiting for his head to clear, but the pain and vaguely dizzy feeling refused to fade.

He was hanging around because it was quieter and less flashy than other parts of the city, here just outside the residential block. Back by the restaurant there had been blinking signs, brighter lights, and digital marquees flashing important announcements--like the breakthrough of being able to detect the shape-shifters visually.

It was understandably rambunctious right now; everyone, everywhere was celebrating. 

Although someone, he suddenly noticed through his blurry vision, wasn't celebrating right now. They were trying to sneak off somewhere. Giving his head a shake in a vain attempt to clear it, Modo moved across the smooth street to the orphanage, where a small, off-white figure was tiptoeing out the door. He caught sight of Modo and brought a finger to his furry mouth.

"Shhh," he hissed, and kept tiptoeing.

"Where are you sneakin' off to?" Modo wondered, amused.

"Shhh!" the boy repeated, louder this time.

He was a funny little creature, with big black feet that only had two stubby toes, like foot-shaped hooves. He was wearing baggy brown pants and a tan t-shirt, and his arms and face were covered in slightly scruffy fur that was white with an underlying hint of pale cream. He had a round black nose above his thin mouth, large bright black eyes, and ears that swiveled near the top of his head like two upside-down teardrops. Tucked between them were two stubby gray horns. He reminded Modo of an Earth goat.

"Are you supposed to be wanderin' off by yourself?" Modo asked.

"No," the boy muttered, sounding edgy. "Now go 'way."

"I think I better take you back inside." For the boy's safety as well as his own, Modo thought. If Tamerin found out he let one of her charges get loose...

The boy protested and tried to run, but Modo calmly--gently--snagged the back of his shirt and carried him inside. The boy folded his arms and pouted. "Drat."

The inside of the orphanage was even more welcoming than the outside. The soft colors were like a nursery, and the design of the main room worked around the limited space they had. Alcoves held cradles for the smallest orphans, and beds for the older ones could be pushed into the walls. A little girl with bright green skin, pointed ears and long black hair pushed her bed in as he came inside, then trotted to a nearby chair and sat down, looking demure--and nervously excited.

"Who's that?" someone asked, as Modo set the pouter down.

"Ashie said some mice were visiting," someone else answered.

"Oh. Visitors won't adopt us, huh?"

The little girl sitting down kicked her feet, her nerves visibly growing. She was a pretty little thing, with slender features and snapping blue-black eyes. Her white dress was crisp and clean. "Will they be here soon?" she asked.

Movement across the room caught Modo's eye. He looked over--and stiffened. He didn't see her come back in, so he hadn't realized that the Martian girl was here...though he didn't wonder how he had missed her, with the way his vision kept blurring. She was obviously trying to avoid his gaze, and she cringed when he spotted her and ducked her head. Cradled in her arms was something that looked like a ball of brown fluff with two huge, blinking blue eyes. She kissed it tenderly before placing it gently in one of the cribs.

"Someone only just made an appointment," she said, answering the green-skinned girl. "So it's going to be a while more before anyone visits us."

The little girl, who looked like she was the oldest aside from the furry boy, let out a heavy sigh. "I know. I just really want a mommy and daddy."

"I'd love for you to have both, but remember, most of the ones who are going to come here won't have a mate, either because they haven't found one yet or because they lost theirs in the war."

"Okay, I want a mommy _or_ a daddy," she amended. "I don't care, I just want a family."

"This family is good enough for me," the white-and-cream-furred boy declared, flopping onto the floor with what looked like a coloring book. "Besides, I'm too old to be adopted."

The Martian girl frowned at him. "Michio, you're only ten. And your species comes of age the same as an Imeeran; age twenty. You're plenty young enough to be adopted."

Michio muttered something and went quiet.

Modo was about to turn and leave quietly when he felt a small tug on his pant leg. He looked down and saw another little creature, one with pale pink skin, curly hair and three green eyes, who pointed shyly at a stuffed toy sitting on a shelf. "Can't reach," she said bashfully.

Smiling, Modo passed the toy to her; she hugged it to herself and happily ran off. Still smiling, Modo turned around--and nearly bumped into the Martian girl.

She recoiled--no, that was way more than recoiling. She jerked back and ducked her head, shielding herself like she expected him to hit her. "Sorry," she said, in a tiny voice. "I was just...your eye looks swollen."

"Yeah," Modo said dryly, "it kind of does that after it's had a fist in it."

The Martian girl relaxed a little, though she didn't lift her head. "Don't be mad at Tamerin," she said, her quiet voice full of pleading as she scuffed her boot on the floor. "She's...well, she's really protective of me. But it's okay," she went on hastily, "I understand. I know you hate me. It's okay. They all do."

Modo hadn't forgotten Tamerin saying that everyone here loved her--but then it dawned on him. She probably meant that every other Martian she had ever met hated her. A rat would be just as repulsed as he was by what he was seeing.

Modo felt something inside him soften a little. Maybe he was being unfair. It wasn't her fault one of her parents was a rat. In fact, if you could ignore the rat features, she actually made a rather pretty mouse.

But those features were impossible to ignore. Even on her mouse-like face, her golden-brown fur was too long and too thick, and the fur on her arms showed hints of black guard hairs. Her limbs were slender and toned, her hands delicate, but her fingers ended in sharp claws. She caught where his gaze had wandered and balled her fists, tucking them at her sides. "Sorry," she mumbled again.

She lifted her head a second later, her dark eyes focusing on his lone eyeball, which continued to throb. Her eyes, at least, were thoroughly mouse-like. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really think you ought to have that checked. Tamerin is a lot stronger than she looks. All Imeerans are."

"So I gathered," Modo said dryly.

She flushed visibly beneath her fur and looked away again. "I didn't mean..." Modo started to say, then trailed off.

Part rat or not, his instincts were telling him that he really needed to watch what he said and did. He could tell she was all but terrified of him, deep inside, and worried that he was going to snap at any moment--just because she was what she was. And yet she kept glancing at his eye, clearly concerned for him.

"One of the best doctors at the hospital is really nice," she ventured.

"You mean Deichan-ma'am? We've met."

And he was beginning to think maybe he _should_ get his eye looked at. It was the only one he had left, and he'd kind of like to be able to see clearly with it again.

The Martian girl beckoned, though she still looked wary of him, and stepped outside. Modo followed and she pointed down the tiled street. "It's just down there," she instructed. "It's the really big gray building. You can't miss it."

She ducked her head, a clear gesture of farewell, and scurried back inside. Modo started down the street, blinking frequently, though it didn't help the pain or his vision. He caught fuzzy glimpses of numerous Imeerans as they either ran home or ran out to meet someone. And more than once he came across what was obviously a couple reuniting after all this time. The unbridled public passion made him blush and look away.

The hospital was just as described; a wide-spread, massive structure than spanned almost a block and stood several stories, one of the tallest buildings in the city. The clear glass front doors were wide and in sets of two, and they swished open automatically as he approached them. As he stepped inside, Modo heard the distant blips of computer equipment; the whole building seemed to hum with power. It dawned on him that more than just medical practice went on here. This was probably where scientific and tech study happened, which was why the place was so big. Which probably meant those electronic earrings Deichan had designed were being reproduced here.

The doctor in question wasn't hard to find. After approaching the friendly receptionist at the front desk and asking about her, he was directed down the hall to her main office--after being scrutinized by a member of security with the new, ready-in-an-instant eye-gear. In the office he found Deichan busy typing away at a computer console; she got up as he came in and greeted him warmly.

"Sorry to bother you," he said as he took a seat next to an examination table, "but I kind of ran into a problem. Somebody's fist, actually."

Deichan frowned as her eyes automatically started scanning him from head to toe, searching for injury. They found his eye, which she gently touched with another frown. She had awfully pretty eyes, Modo noted as they scrutinized him. Like orbs of nacre ringed with smoky gray. It was kind of funny that someone so delicate and child-like was actually old enough to be his great-grandmother and then some.

"I'm not keeping you from your family, am I?" he wondered. He figured somebody that old had to have a mate and numerous children by now.

Deichan looked startled. "Me? No--not at all. I lost my parents and siblings years ago, and I've never come close to having a mate. Everyone sees me as their little sister. Tamerin and Ashlin are my family now."

"Ashlin?" Modo repeated.

"She helps Tam run the orphanage. Did she mention that to you yet?"

Modo's heart sank a little when he realized who she must mean. "She did. That's kind of how I came to be here, actually."

He gave a brief account of his less than flattering summary of Tamerin's young business partner. Deichan's eyes bulged beneath her lavender eyebrows. "You _insulted_ Ashlin? And in front of Tamerin? You're lucky she didn't shoot you on the spot!"

"I think she wanted to," Modo commented, with a weak laugh.

The small doctor's frown was full of disapproval. "It's not funny," she scolded. "Why would you do that? Ashlin is the sweetest thing you could ever hope to meet."

Modo didn't know how to answer. It was one of those things that was difficult to explain, since no one ever really had to bother. Back on Mars, everyone understood the reasons. No explanation was needed.

"I wouldn't go so far as calling it an insult," he said quietly.

But he probably should. With his face and voice loaded with disgust, he had called her very existence 'wrong.'

Deichan was shaking her head, clearly unhappy with him, but she led him over to the nearby examination table and told him to lie down. She switched on a monitor up near his head, then pulled out a slender object shaped like a pen and held it over him. "Did Tam explain why she's so protective of Ash?" she asked, as she flicked a switch on the side of the pen-like object.

"No. She only spoke to me with her fist."

A red light came out of the tip of the object, widening the farther it went, like a scanning laser, only the brightness of it didn't bother him even though he was staring directly into it. Deichan passed it over his eye, then widened the beam and scanned the rest of his head, checking the results on the nearby screen. She made several passes before she was finished.

"Tamerin found her during her first trip to Mars, years ago," Deichan said, as she switched off the scanner and turned to the monitor. "We were at war by then, but we still visited other planets frequently, mapping out the universe, looking for new resources and exploring other worlds. She only went to check things out--she was a scout back then--and right before she finished and came back, she found Ashlin in the desert."

She tapped a button beneath the monitor, frowned at something on the screen, then looked at him again. "She was only a baby," she went on, her pretty mouth grim. "But Tamerin found her in the sand miles from the Martian mouse colony she was staying at. She thought it was a mistake--that there had been an attack or something--so she took her back to the mice."

Deichan gave her head a shake. "When she came home later, she told me about how they reacted. She didn't know a thing about mice and rats, and to her, with her face and antennae, the baby looked like a mouse, so that was who she took her to. They accepted her at first--and then they realized she was part rat. They told Tamerin that the mother must have been a victim of a lecherous rat and left Ashlin in the desert to die the moment she was born--and that Tamerin should do the same."

Modo felt something unpleasant stir inside him. "That's..."

That was horrible. But it sounded like something a mouse would do to a rat. Even a helpless baby.

"Tamerin was pretty disgusted by their behavior, so she went to the rats instead. They told her a different story; they supposedly knew of a young mouse girl rebelling against her father, who was an authority figure, and was having a wild affair with a male rat just to make him mad. Only she ended up pregnant and the rat abandoned her, and they said that dumping her child later was just the kind of thing a mouse would do. Tamerin thought that meant they would take her, but they said they didn't want her either, since she was part mouse and couldn't be trusted. So she brought the baby here and raised her herself."

"And opened Stardust House," Modo finished, his voice small and quiet.

The petite doctor nodded. "There weren't any other orphans here at that time, but Tamerin was adamant about it. She said that no baby deserved to be treated like that, no matter who or what their parents were. They deserved to have a home where they would be loved.

"She never officially adopted her," she went on, absently straightening a tray of tools, "but emotionally, Tamerin is family to her. She sees herself as Ashlin's mother, the one who protects her from anything and everything. And honestly, aside from Ashlin, Tamerin has maintained an extremely low opinion of Martians, regardless of species."

Modo remembered her mentioning something like that, right after they first transported from Earth to Mars. Now he understood why--and he was pretty sure that that opinion, which he had inadvertently helped lift only recently, had plummeted again.

Deichan moved across the room and opened a cabinet. When she came back, she handed him a small bottle made of soft plastic. "I'm afraid you've got a hairline fracture inside your skull," she explained, her voice full of gentle apology. "It runs from here..." she put the small fingers of one hand on a spot beneath his eye, "...to about here," she finished, touching a spot above his eye with her other hand. "It will heal on its own, but it'll take time, and you should avoid anything that might aggravate it, like too much noise or excitement."

"Or any more fists," he cracked.

She didn't smile. "These eye-drops should help with the pain. If it comes back, or if your vision doesn't clear, come see me right away."

Modo thanked her and left the hospital. Outside, he checked the instructions for the eye-drops, but all it said was 'apply one to two drops as needed.' He tilted his head back and squeezed out a couple of drops; the cool liquid felt wonderfully soothing as they dripped into his tender eye, washing the pain away.

Completely, in fact. Within moments the sting melted away and his vision cleared. Nice, he thought as he pocketed the bottle. And Deichan-ma'am didn't even ask him for payment. She was such a dear, and it was a shame she didn't have anyone special. She was the kind of girl who needed someone strong--someone who could look after her, protect her. She deserved that.

Following her advice, he kept away from the noisy parts of the city, staying to the outer road near the glass. He suddenly remembered Tamerin mentioning there was a park nearby. Taking a quiet walk through the trees sounded like a plan about now.


	16. Chapter 16

After dinner Charley went to take a shower, leaving Vinnie alone with Vector. Vinnie didn't mind; he liked taking care of his baby boy. He had been around older children before, but this was the first actual baby he had interacted directly with for extended periods of time. It was a brand new experience for him--and a lot better than the stories he had heard.

Vector wasn't whiny or fussy. He didn't cry when he was put to bed at night. It seemed like all he needed was his parents, a full belly and his pile of toys and he was perfectly happy. In fact, Vinnie had yet to see him do anything other than smile and giggle. _His_ genes at work, no doubt...though his mother's genes were pretty cool too, he reminded himself with a grin.

Rolling onto his back on the rug next to the coffee table, Vinnie suspended the little guy over his head, making him squeal with laughter. "What do you think?" he cooed. "Do you have the best mommy ever?"

Vector laughed again and kicked his feet. "Mommy," he giggled, sounding like he agreed with him.

"And don't tell her," Vinnie went on, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I plan to spoil her rotten tomorrow."

Dark eyes blinked at him curiously. "Spo' Mommy?"

Chuckling, Vinnie lowered his arms and cuddled the little mouse to his shoulder; Vector yawned and coiled his tiny tail around his father's wrist. "Hey," Vinnie said lazily, tickling his son's pinkish ear, "do you know who I am? Daddy. Can you say daddy?"

Vector yawned again and closed his eyes. "Well, we'll work on that later," said Vinnie.

Presently Charley came out of the bathroom and padded barefoot into the living room, towel-drying her short hair. She smiled at the sight of the two of them on the rug; Vinnie perked up at the sight she made in a short satin robe. "Come on," he told Vector as he hopped to his feet, "I need to tuck you in so I can tuck Mommy in."

Charley laughed and headed to the bedroom. "No getting any ideas tonight, I have work in the morning. Playtime has to wait until I get back."

Vinnie sighed in disappointment, but at least tomorrow was Friday. After that she had the whole weekend off.

In the bedroom Charley shrugged her robe off and crawled into bed in her usual nighttime attire, which Vinnie made sure to admire before crossing to the other side of the bed. Only as he was about to place Vector in his cradle, he hesitated. Glancing over at Charley, he put on his best puppy-dog face--a tough feat for a mouse. "Can he sleep with us tonight?" he pleaded. "Just this once?"

Charley pursed her lips at him as she laid back on her pillow. "Oh, please. You act like I haven't already done that dozens of times. He's our baby, not a pet; you really think I'd say no?"

Grinning, Vinnie hurried back around the bed, carefully placed Vector on the mattress next to Charley and kicked off his jeans before getting under the covers, making sure he left enough room for Vector while still cuddling close to Charley. "When was the last time you had those washed?" Charley wondered, eyeing his boxers.

"A while ago," he admitted as he pulled the blanket up higher. "It's not like I have other pairs to trade off to right now."

"Hey, just say the word and I'll hit the store. In the meantime, I do the bulk of my laundry on Saturdays."

"But that won't give me anything to change into," Vinnie noted with a frown.

The mischievous glint in her eye told him that she was well aware of this. "Exactly. You won't be able to get away."

Vinnie snickered and rested his head on the pillow, carefully tucking the blanket under Vector's chin. His little son yawned and blinked drowsily, but his bright eyes focused on him, a smile touching his face. Her green eyes full of love, Charley rested a gentle hand on her son's middle as she leaned to kiss his cheek. Vinnie kissed the other one and lightly gripped his tiny fist. With his other hand, he discreetly pointed at himself. "Daddy," he whispered.

Vector mumbled something in sleepy baby gibberish and closed his eyes. Charley's smile was soft as she gazed at the two of them from her pillow. "He'll figure it out eventually," she commented softly.

Vinnie grew quiet, his smile fading. "He'd have figured it out a long time ago if I'd been here from the beginning. I'm sorry I missed so much of his life."

Charley looked surprised for a moment. Then she smiled, her eyes moistening, as she reached over and ran her hand over his face. The furry side was pressed to the pillow, but she didn't seem to care; she caressed the cool metal of his face plate as she brushed her thumb over his mouth. "You're here now," she said in a whisper. "That's all that matters."

* * *

Modo hadn't been in the park for very long when a familiar off-white shape shot across his path. Little Michio paused when he noticed him, stuck out his pink tongue, then darted into the bushes. A large, vibrant bird perched on the back of a nearby bench squawked quietly and ruffled its feathers. Across from the bench was a large fountain, and perched on the rim was the little green-skinned girl from the orphanage, happily playing with a doll. And pacing close by, with the brown ball of fluff in her arms, was Ashlin.

She caught sight of him and blushed, ducking her head so he couldn't see her face. She continued to walk back and forth on the path by the fountain, rocking her arms from time to time.

Modo glanced at the little girl, who was busy playing with her doll and didn't notice him, before moving quietly over to Ashlin. "Listen," he said gently, as she stopped walking but kept her eyes on her boots, "I want to apologize for earlier. I...shouldn't have acted the way I did."

Ashlin shrugged and rocked the sleeping baby again. "It's okay. I told you, I know that all other Martians automatically hate me. I understand."

She spoke in a very soft, quiet voice, but it didn't quite hide the pain in her tone. "But I don't..."

"Of course you do," she said quickly, in the same quiet voice. "Tamerin told me everything when I was old enough to understand. She stayed on Mars for days after she found me, looking for someone to take care of me. Mouse or rat, it didn't matter. No one wanted me. I'm so horrible I'm not supposed to exist."

She spoke so frankly...it made something deep inside him ache a little. "That ain't right," he heard himself say. "You were only a baby. And it ain't your fault who your parents were, no matter how they came together. You can't help what you are."

Ashlin's head suddenly shot up. Her dark eyes blazed quietly. "No?" she said, her soft voice suddenly full of challenge. "I happen to _like_ who and what I am. I'm not bad or evil--but I know that you think I am, just because. When I tell you that I'm sorry, it's not because I'm ashamed of myself, it's because I'm sorry that you can't ever see me as anything other than obscene. You can't help it. I told you, I understand."

She understood, but she clearly didn't like it. She ducked her head and brushed past him...but not before he'd seen the tears welling in her dark eyes. "Just go away," she whispered.

Darting over to the bench, she sat down and hunched over; the colorful bird flew away with another squawk. Modo felt that unpleasant ache inside him grow a little deeper as Ashlin sniffled, her small body trembling a little as she held back a sob. The little girl by the fountain noticed and dropped her doll as she ran over to hug her.

"Don't cry," she told her soothingly, even though she had no idea what was wrong.

"I'm not bad," Modo heard Ashlin mumble.

"Of course you're not," the tiny orphan said firmly. "You're a good girl--a very good girl. Everybody says so."

"It doesn't matter. Maybe it never will."

* * *

By the time he and Tamerin decided to call it a night, Throttle felt pleasantly exhausted. The noise, the music, the lights, the games and food had been just the combination he needed to take his mind off his troubles. He had managed to forget everything for a few hours--including himself. He'd actually go so far as to say that he had fun.

Sure, Tamerin had beat him soundly every time he tried to compete with her, but it wasn't like he had actually known what he was doing with any of the games they played. He had still managed to wrack up a pile of tokens, which they'd traded in for just the sort of stuff you'd expect to get in an arcade-like place like that. Tamerin had a handful of stuffed toys and boxes of candy, and Throttle had a useless assortment of key-chains shaped like animals he didn't recognize.

"I'm beat," he stated with a noisy yawn. "Where do I sleep?"

"Well, we don't normally entertain guests here, so we don't have hotels or anything."

Throttle stopped walking and looked at her; Tamerin gazed back at him blandly, a slender stick that smelled like chocolate in her mouth. "We only have normal residences," she explained after chewing for a moment. "Enough for the current population, to be exact. When the population starts to grow too big, we build another pod. Not that that's going to happen again for another, oh, few hundred years or so," she added bitterly. "We've lost thousands to this war and we're not breeding. Naturally, our population is at the lowest it's been in centuries."

"What about all the empty residences?" Throttle wondered, as tactfully as he could. With that many fatalities, there had to be a lot of unoccupied homes by now.

"Nothing stays empty around here for long," was Tamerin's response. "This ocean is big, but we make sure to never let any space we take go to waste. The empty homes have been converted to other uses until they're needed for habitation again. Which, as I said, won't be for a while."

She crunched on another chocolate stick. "So your only option is to persuade someone to share their pad with you. Either that or you can bunk in an empty hospital bed."

Throttle made a face. "No thanks, and uh, no thanks. Guess I'll doze on a park bench like a bum."

Tamerin started walking again, her eyes drifting up to the vast expanse of the dome that stretched high above their heads. Throttle followed behind her, absently twirling his key-chains on the end of his finger. In her hand, Tamerin squeezed a plush doll covered in blue-and-green fur, making it squeak. "What's a bum?" she asked.

Throttle was so surprised, for a moment he couldn't think how to answer. "Um...someone without a normal place to sleep, I guess. Or money."

"Oh."

She glanced over at a nearby café, where a happy couple was sharing a dish of ice cream out on the patio. "Money isn't part of our way of life," she noted musingly. "We didn't have any when we crashed here, so we never bothered to invent some. We get everything we have by working together."

"What about off planet?" Throttle wondered.

"We barter. Or do public service or something. We've learned to work around it. Pocky?"

She handed him one of the chocolate sticks; Throttle munched it absently. "Well, where does that leave me, then?"

Tamerin suddenly rolled her eyes as she stepped over to the tube of a transparent lift and pushed the call button. "If you ask nicely, you can crash at my place."

Even if they were in separate rooms, the thought of sleeping under the same roof as someone attractive and single made him pause. Especially when that someone had expressed possible signs of interest.

Sensing his hesitation, she glanced at him, lips pursed. "Don't worry, I won't get in your way. I spend a lot more time at the orphanage than I do at home. In fact, I sometimes don't go home for days. If you run off the moment you wake up, we probably won't bump into each other."

Judging by the slightly frosty look in her eyes, she'd clearly read the reason for his hesitation--and he'd clearly misread her intentions. "Sounds fine," he mumbled. "Thanks."

Mollified, she took him back down to the main level and led him to the residential area. His tired feet squeaked on the polished black street along the way. "Don't you have any forms of transportation?" he wondered with a yawn.

"Yes, but only for emergencies. This city isn't _that_ big. A little walking never hurt anyone."

It did if you'd spent the last several hours expending vast amounts of energy, Throttle thought, but kept his mouth shut. Apparently, Imeerans had a great deal of stamina.

They left the main part of the city and crossed through one of the tubes suspended out in the ocean, entering into the block of residences on the other side. It was a lot quieter here, and a lot less colorful; the walls were an eggshell color, the thin carpeting on the floor a soft gray. The white lighting was also soft, and the sudden change in atmosphere had him watching how hard his boots thumped on the floor...though he had a feeling that a lot of the closed doors they passed didn't lead into a place being lived in at the moment.

Like everywhere else in the undercity, the doors were electronic, some single, some double. Tamerin led him down a winding hallway and stopped outside a single door at the very end. She pushed a button on the glowing keypad next to it; the door swished open quietly.

"You didn't lock it before you left for a year?" Throttle wondered in surprise.

"What for?" Tamerin asked seriously. "Other than the shape-shifters, there aren't any threats down here. And they're interested in killing us, not robbing us."

She breezed inside; Throttle followed slowly, the door shutting quietly behind him. The room they entered looked like a normal living room, with a long armless couch in the middle, a round coffee table in front of it, a couple of side tables pushed up against the walls, and a screen set into the wall by the door that was probably linked to that integrated system she'd told him about.

The screen was dark right now. Everything was dark, at least until Tamerin reached over and switched on a lamp next to the couch. The room lit with a gentle white glow.

It looked like Tamerin liked to decorate in white and gray, with accents of silver and black. Gray carpet, white walls, white couch, glossy black tables with silver legs. The round coffee table was white plastic, and there was a curvy black sculpture next to the silver lamp. Overall, the apartment was small and kind of crisp and informal. Like no one had lived in here a long time--and unless Tamerin had rented it out during her long absence, no one had.

"You don't have to worry about nosy neighbors?" he asked, as he absently set down his collection of key-chains.

Tamerin was busy checking a potted plant on one of the tables. "Not unless you count someone coming in to dust and water. I don't know who it was, but they did a nice job."

She sounded pleased. Then she looked at him, her eyes studying his expression--which was probably a little puzzled right now. Her own expression suddenly cleared in understanding. "Oh--you're asking about local crime. We don't have any."

"None?" Throttle asked in surprise. Everywhere he went, that seemed unavoidable.

Tamerin gave a shrug and moved over to the couch, resting her hands on the back of it. "It's something that was programmed into us, something that makes it impossible to do any kind of harm either to ourselves or each other. It's not that some of us don't have bad thoughts, or even hate sometimes. But even when we do, when those thoughts turn dark enough to want to hurt someone, our minds flood with all the things that would be lost if something happened to that someone, to all their unique gifts and the things they contribute to our society. It doesn't necessarily make the dark feelings go away, but it never fails to make the desire for taking action disappear."

She absently fluffed a cushion before putting it back down on the couch and leaving the room. She came back a moment later with a blanket, which she draped over the back of the couch, then moved over to the wall in front of it, where a line of thick drapes hung. She pushed a button and the drapes slid quietly aside, revealing a row of oval-shaped windows. The blueish light from the city outside pooled on the floor beneath her feet, making it look like the ocean had seeped onto the carpet.

Her expression was wistful as she gazed out the glass, but when she looked at him again she frowned a little. "Would you rather this stayed closed?" she asked. She looked a touch uncertain, like entertaining company was something she was unaccustomed to.

Throttle gave a shrug. "It's fine."

The light was a little bright, but there was something soothing about it, so he didn't mind. He switched off the lamp by the couch before he sat down and started tugging off his boots--and then something occurred to him. "What about laws?" he asked. "Even if no one around here does anything worse than, say, act like a jerk, you must have developed some sort of system to protect yourselves."

Tamerin blinked once before returning her eyes to the windows. "We did," she agreed. "It was something we developed slowly over the years as we explored other planets and saw some of the things other races do. We've kept it simple, though; we don't allow theft, deliberate destruction of property, physical violence or murder. And we especially don't tolerate sexual crimes."

"And in all these years, none of the locals have ever broken those laws?"

"Never."

The thought made Throttle shake his head, mildly amazed. "No crime and no need for money," he mused quietly. "Sounds like a dream society for some."

Tamerin let out a humorless laugh. "You think so, huh? Living in unity is one of the only reasons we're alive today, but honestly, nothing comes easy for any of us. We learn very, very slowly, being as isolated as we are. We have virtually no outside contact and no allies, because we're never sure who we can trust. When the shape-shifters came we weren't prepared, even though we're supposed to be this great race of strong fighters."

She laughed again, as humorlessly as before, and shook her head. "Look what happened today," she went on, turning from the window and gesturing at him. "It wasn't our technology that finally uncovered a way to spot them, it was yours. It's usually someone else's that brings about our biggest advancements and changes."

Throttle could understand how living here, all but trapped underwater and with only tentative contact with other worlds, could make life difficult. But he still found the kind of society that they had managed to build in such a short time impressive. "Even if it didn't come from here, it was still a big step," he ventured. "I doubt things can do anything but improve now that you can track them."

Tamerin rewarded him with a ghost of a smile. "Thanks," she murmured. "Sometimes it's hard to keep your spirits up around here, but..."

But Throttle suspected that she didn't want to live any other way.


	17. Chapter 17

Modo had no idea how to keep track of time around here, but after wandering around the lower level of the city for a few hours, he could tell when his tired body had had enough and was ready to crash. And since he didn't know where else to go or who to ask, he went back to the hospital and tentatively asked Deichan-ma'am if she knew of a place where he could sleep.

With a smile, she ushered him to a bed near the back of her private lab, which was connected to her office. "It's mine," she explained, as she pulled the sheets back. "Like any duteous scientist, I sleep at work sometimes. I have other things I need to do right now, so please, feel free to rest as long as you like."

Fortunately, the bed in question was almost as big as the regular hospital beds, so he only had to curl up a little to get comfortable. When he woke up again, hours later, he noted with a frown that he still had no idea if it was morning, noon, or night. He was going to have to ask if he could borrow somebody's watch or something.

As he sat up with a yawn and a stretch, he noted that his head felt better, though he felt a faint twinge behind his eye. He paused to squeeze a drop from the bottle into it before getting up and heading back into the main part of Deichan's office. She wasn't in sight, so he continued on into the hospital room her office was connected to--and stopped short in the doorway.

Deichan-ma'am was bent over one of the hospital beds, examining a tiny patient--and watching from close by was Ashlin.

She quickly noticed him and blushed beneath her golden brown fur, but she didn't move until Deichan straightened up again. "He seems fine to me," she noted, referring to the soccer ball-sized ball of fluff on the bed--the same fluffball with the giant eyes Ashlin had been cradling yesterday. "When did he stop eating?"

"Last night," said Ashlin. She looked even more worried than she sounded. "He didn't want his breakfast either, and I made him his favorite."

Frowning, Deichan bent over again and prodded a spot of fur that looked like where the baby's mouth would be; Ashlin snuck a glance at the doorway before ducking her head.

She looked different. Yesterday her shirt was sleeveless; today she had on snug brown pants and a skin-tight long-sleeved green shirt that matched her boots. An off-white tunic was worn loosely over the green shirt, with a belt covered in compartments and pouches around her thin waist. The snugness of the green fabric masked the thickness of her fur, and she had been fidgeting her fingers when he came in, but now had them balled up and tucked beneath her folded arms. With her head down like that, the only thing that instantly gave her away as rat-like was the thick tail.

Modo could only think of one reason why she'd be trying to hide half of her features; because of him. She claimed she was proud of who she was, but that didn't mean the way he'd judged her hadn't hurt. 

Deichan straightened again with a sigh. "I just can't find anything wrong," she said, sounding troubled. "That's the problem with caring for a species we know nothing about. We can never be truly sure if we're caring for them correctly."

Ashlin suddenly made a strange sound--a barely contained sob. She pressed her hands to her eyes, and Deichan hastily put an arm around her, though she had to stretch to do it. "Don't cry," she said soothingly. "He'll be okay. We'll figure this out."

"We didn't figure it out last time," Ashlin whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I don't want to go through that again. I can't."

For a moment Deichan looked stricken, but then she calmed herself and carefully passed the quietly trilling furball to her. "Take him home and keep a close eye on him," she said softly. "It's all we can do for now."

Ashlin didn't look like she liked that plan, but she dried her eyes and cuddled her cheek against the little ball of fluff as she left the room. With another sigh, Deichan returned to her desk. She looked up in surprise a moment later, having just noticed Modo standing in the doorway. "Oh--hello. Did you sleep well?"

"More or less."

His quest for some way to tell time forgotten, he came over and stood next to her desk with a small frown. "What happened the last time?" he asked quietly.

Deichan bit her lip and turned to face the computer screen in front of her. "A few years ago one of our youngest charges got sick. If they were older they could probably tell us exactly how to care for them, but since the only ones old enough to talk when the ship crashed were Michio and Nena, we've had to guess with the rest of them. I did everything I could for him, but nothing helped. There was an attack around that same time, and with Tamerin up fighting on the surface and me tending to the wounded, Ashlin was left alone. The little one died in her care and she blamed herself for it. She never really got over it."

Resting back in her seat, Deichan rubbed her eyes for a moment. "I don't understand this problem you have with rats," she began tiredly, "but I'm going to have to plead with you to leave that poor girl alone. If you can't stomach what she is, then please, leave her be. When she was old enough to ask where she came from, Tamerin told her everything. She's known nothing but love here, so to know that her own species, regardless of which half, will never see her as anything but some grotesque mistake...it breaks her heart. She's lived in quiet fear of experiencing that kind of hatred firsthand, and yesterday, well...you basically brought her nightmare to life."

Modo swallowed and glanced down at his boots. "I...overreacted a little. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me, tell her."

"I did. I don't think she wanted to listen." Not that he could blame her.

Deichan rubbed her eyes again. "I have to get back to working on these scanners," she said, a note of apology in her voice.

Taking the hint, Modo left the hospital and headed down the busy street to the restaurant from yesterday. There were other patrons inside today, though only a handful of them paused to look at him curiously before going back to their meals. He didn't see any sign of Throttle, and he hadn't been able to find Rimfire since he vanished last night. Or had it been yesterday morning? He really had no idea...though he suddenly noticed, sheepishly, that those scrolling marquees occasionally flashed the time. Now all he needed to do was figure out exactly how those numbers correlated to daytime hours and he'd be set.

After scarfing down a large order of hot dogs, he headed back out and started wandering again, since he had little else to do right now. He firmly told himself to stay away from the orphanage today, but as he was heading in the opposite direction he caught sight of a small cream-and-white shape darting by.

"Where are you goin' now?" Modo wondered.

Michio paused, bugged his eyes out and then started running. "Go 'way," he yelled as he streaked through the narrow gap between two buildings. Modo calmly hurried around to the front and nabbed him when he came out on the other side.

"Ah, you cheater," the small boy groused.

Chuckling, Modo turned around and started for the orphanage. "Why do you keep runnin' off, anyway?" he wondered, while Michio folded his arms and pouted.

"I don't want to be in Stardust House," he muttered.

"But yesterday you made it sound like you don't wanna be anywhere else," Modo reminded him.

"Yeah, but not _now_ ," Michio said, exasperated.

Modo wasn't sure what was bugging the little guy, so he walked the short distance to the orphanage and quietly stepped through the open door. Fortunately, Ashlin wasn't anywhere in sight inside the main room--but unfortunately, Tamerin was. She was busy tidying up as he came in, though she stopped and stood straight when she saw him. Her eyes were hard and angry, but instead of speaking to him she shifted her eyes to Michio, who was still hanging from his hand by the back of his shirt. A smile ghosted her lips, though she spoke to him sternly as Modo set him to his feet. "Remember what I told you about being on your best behavior," she warned. "Nobody is going to want to adopt a troublemaker."

Grumbling to himself, Michio dropped to the floor and sat with his arms folded, his eyes glaring daggers at everyone. The pretty little green-skinned girl--Nena--sat demurely in a chair, brushing the hair of her favorite doll.

"I have guests coming," Tamerin told Modo coolly. "Kindly get out."

Modo gave a brief nod and left quickly. He nearly bumped into a young woman with blue hair and blue-white skin on his way out the door; she hurried by him with an absent apology and went inside. Behind him, he heard Tamerin greeting the woman, followed by the door clicking shut.

He might not be very welcome around here right now, but compared to the other parts of the city, this seemed to be the quietest spot he could find. Not that he, a proud biker mouse, was a huge fan of quiet--in fact he was longing for loud music and the roar of his bike engine--but until his fracture was fully healed, he knew he had to take it easy, so he eventually took a stroll through a garden that was across the street from the orphanage. There were rows of vegetables planted near the metal fence, with a large tree growing in the center. It had a lush canopy of leaves that cast a long shadow, and he relaxed against the thick trunk for a while, watching the underwater world drift by.

The swell of excitement had ebbed a little, but Imeerans were still darting up and down the glossy streets, either running to meet someone or clinging tightly to the hand of the person beside them. Everyone seemed to be glowing with happiness, and Modo, with memories of war and suffering still fresh in his mind, found himself wishing for their sake that their joy would last for a while.

He was still relaxing against the tree a while later when the door to the orphanage opened again, and the blue-haired female came back out leading little Nena by the hand. The two chattered happily as they walked away, and Tamerin stepped outside to wave goodbye and watched them until they were out of sight. As soon as they were gone her smile vanished, and she turned back to the open doorway, planting her hands on either side of the frame. "Michio, what has gotten into you?" she demanded, her voice full of irritation. "That was disgraceful behavior for a boy your age even if we didn't have a guest over."

Inside, Michio grumbled something Modo didn't catch. Tamerin let out a huff of air and pushed away from the door. "Well, you can just stay inside for the rest of the day, if you're not feeling sociable right now," she muttered, reaching over to tap the keypad next to the door. "I have things to do."

The door slid shut with a locking sound; Tamerin stalked away, muttering under her breath. Just a few moments later someone else came walking toward Stardust House, speaking in the gentlest of tones. "Are you sure you won't have just a nibble? I know I tell you guys not to eat too much candy, but I'm willing to make an exception."

A moment later Ashlin came around a corner and into view; she was still trying to coax the little furball to eat. He just snuggled further into the crook of her arm, trilling quietly. Ashlin breathed a sigh. "I just wish I knew what was wrong. Are you teething? Does your tummy hurt? I wish you could tell me..."

Sighing again, she rubbed her head against the brown fluff as she unlocked the door. She disappeared inside briefly before coming back out empty-handed and locking the door again. She then leaned her back against the pale blue wall and let out a shaky breath as she buried her face in her hands.

Modo felt a little awkward to be hanging around watching like this, so he pushed away from the tree and tried to quietly tiptoe away...but he had only put a toe outside the garden when Ashlin sniffled and wiped her eyes. "What do you want now?" she asked tearfully.

"Nothin'," he said quickly. "I was just passin' by."

"Keeping an eye on me?"

"No. Why would I do that?"

Ashlin made a scoffing sound and rubbed a hand over her forehead, like her head hurt. "I'm sorry I made you cry before," Modo ventured in a quiet voice. "And, uh, the time before that."

This time Ashlin let out a sound like a laugh--a sarcastic one. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm a hormonal nineteen-year-old. I cry about virtually everything."

"Nothin' wrong with havin' a little empathy."

She scoffed again and shook her head. "Sometimes I think I've got too much," she muttered as she wiped at her eyes again. "If anything ever happened to Ako I wouldn't be able to handle it. I'd be willing to give up or do anything if it meant that he--or any of them--would never be hurt. I'd die to keep them safe if I had to."

She spoke in a voice so soft he suspected that she was mostly talking to herself now. Modo felt something in his heart melt just the same. "Ma'am, I misjudged you--horribly."

Looking genuinely startled, Ashlin lifted her head and looked him in the eye--for the first time, in fact. "You serious? You want to be friends now or something?"

The idea made him smile. "Stranger things have happened. I don't expect you to hang out with me if you don't want to, but...I want you to know I was wrong about you, and I'm sorry."

Ashlin glanced down for a moment, clawed fingers pressing to her mouth. Modo started to worry that she was about to cry again, but when she looked up at him, her dark eyes were dry. A hint of a smile touched her face. "Thank you."

* * *

When Throttle opened his eyes, it took him a moment to remember that he didn't have to grab his specs to see. Instead, he was able to gaze around the quiet, softly-colored room in crystal clarity all on his own. It was a different experience from what he was used to after being dependent on a pair of souped-up sunglasses for so long, but it was kind of nice. 

He wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by the silence in the apartment, he assumed that Tamerin had left already. He tugged his boots on and grabbed his specs, then straightened up the couch a little before heading back out into the city. He was a little hungry, so the first thought in his mind was finding someplace to eat--and then he spied a familiar figure.

It was Rimfire, leaning back against a lamp post beside the street with his arms folded. His young face was alive with laughter, his dark eyes all but glowing with excited interest. Not surprisingly, he was talking to an attractive Imeeran female...not that they actually came in a different kind, of course. What made Throttle pause and stare, nudging his specs down his nose until he could peer over them, was that he was talking to General Bevra.

She was standing in front of Rimfire with her back facing Throttle, so he wasn't sure if she was annoyed by or tolerating Rimfire's laughter and frequent gestures. He was in the middle of debating whether or not he should go closer when he heard someone call out to him.

Turning around, Throttle saw Trent heading toward him, his arm around a female that was only a little shorter than him. She had skin the color of coffee and cream and long canary yellow hair. She reminded Throttle of a daisy. "Where are you headed?" Trent asked as the two of them neared.

"To breakfast," Throttle responded. "Or lunch. I'm not really sure."

"No surprise there. Even on the surface you can't tell the time of day around here, what with the toxins in the air blotting out the sun. We developed our own schedule down here, which doesn't necessarily operate like night and day, considering the sort of shifts we have to take. Technically, it's between breakfast and lunch, but nobody around here is picky about stuff like that."

"You don't strike me as being picky about much of anything," Throttle observed.

Trent chuckled. "You got that right. Just give us our families and a little peace, and we're happy. I've got the first part back," he noted, with a loving glance at the woman next to him, "now we just need to work on the second."

"And add a little more to the first," his mate added, with a shy smile.

Trent smiled and kissed her cheek. "We're still not allowed to have children yet, so we've been thinking about adopting one of the orphans," he explained.

"Good luck," Throttle called as the two walked away. 

He turned back to where Rimfire had been standing, only to discover that the young mouse had vanished again. The fiery-haired general was gone, too. Shrugging, Throttle headed in the direction of the restaurant from yesterday, passing through the park along the way. When he reached the center area by the fountain, he stopped in surprise.

Modo was here too, reclining on the stone bench, with that colorful bird perched on the arm next to him. Someone was sitting on the rim of the fountain, knees tucked to her chest. The first thing he spotted were the antennas on her head, along with the round, furry ears; had to be the 'little Martian girl' the waitress told them about.

She had amended this statement, and even though she was still small, Throttle could understand why. Her slender figure, even half-hidden by her position and her long mane of dark brown hair, was clearly that of a blossoming young woman. When she finished blossoming--which wouldn't take too much longer, by the look of her--she was going to be a knockout.

Something was off, though, something about that tail curving over the rim of the fountain next to her...

"What...?"

Modo spotted him and jumped to his feet. "Hey, bro, didn't hear you come up."

He spoke lightly, but the way he quickly moved forward, stepping between him and the girl...it caused Throttle to lift his eyebrows a little. "What's up?"

"Nothin'. Just hangin'."

Still keeping his powerful body blocking Throttle's view--and path--Modo glanced over his shoulder. He relaxed a second later and stepped aside, absently reaching over to pet the bird still sitting on the bench, always eager for attention. The rim of the fountain was empty now; the mouse girl had apparently scurried off.

At least, he thought it was a mouse.

"Modo, no jokes here, was that a--"

"Martian," Modo supplied firmly, in a voice that discouraged any argument. "Martian is description enough."

Throttle felt too bewildered to say anything as Modo hurried away. First he caught Rimfire clearly flirting with the kind of woman he should stay far, far away from, and now Modo was all but jumping to the defense of someone who was clearly part rat?

With a groan, he pressed a hand to his forehead. "Should've stayed in bed..."


	18. Chapter 18

Throttle had finished up with breakfast--well, brunch--and was just leaving the restaurant when he bumped into Tamerin. She looked distracted about something and didn't pause to say hello, but his curiosity made him fall into step beside her as she rushed on. "Listen, I just met your little, um, part-mouse ward, and--"

Tamerin's brisk gate came to a halt as she whirled to face him. Her normally bright blue eyes were dark with emotion, and her fists had balled at her sides. "Am I going to have trouble with you, too?" she asked in a low, dangerous tone. "Because I won't hesitate to bust up those pretty new eyes of yours, like I did to your jumbo-sized friend."

"No," Throttle said hastily, one hand lifting in defense. "I was just wondering."

Wait, she punched Modo? He didn't know whether to get mad or feel impressed.

With a huff of air, Tamerin started walking again, giving him a brief history of her original ward as he followed. "I have a question for _you_ now," she said when she finished. "What's with the bad blood between your two species, anyway?"

"I'm not really sure, actually," Throttle replied quietly. "All I know is that we're taught from birth to never trust a rat, because no rat who ever lived has ever hesitated to stab a mouse in the back first chance they get. They sell out anyone, even each other. Old folks on Mars will try to tell you that they used to be mice that sold their souls, because only a being without a soul could exist so completely without morals or conscience."

"So, you'd automatically assume all the goodness in that little girl comes from her mouse half, then," Tamerin commented dully as the two of them left the city and entered one of the transparent tubes. "I suppose I'd think the same thing, if I didn't know it was a mouse that left her to die."

Throttle was having a little trouble with that part, too. "Doesn't matter either way," he murmured. "It shouldn't have happened, no matter who her parents were. No one deserves to be punished for their parents' mistakes."

Tamerin stopped walking and looked at him. There had been a hardness in her expression, a look of distinct disapproval; now her face softened, and he got the feeling that he had just passed some kind of inspection. "Forgive me if I seem a little aggravated today," she said as she started walking again. "One of my charges keeps trying to escape."

"Escape?" Throttle echoed, eyeing the vast ocean on the other side of the smooth glass of the tube. He wondered how many miles below the surface they were. You couldn't tell from here; beyond the soft glow from the city and the tubes themselves, the blue water turned black, like a looming, endless void above them.

"So to speak. There's nowhere he can go where I can't find him, but he keeps trying to sneak off. And he behaved atrociously during the last two visits we had--which is pretty sad, because they're the first two visits the orphanage has had since the city was closed off."

"What do you think the problem is?" Throttle wondered.

"No idea," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "He's never acted like this before. Sure, he's the naughty one of the group, but he's never _deliberately_ done things he knows are wrong and will get him in trouble before. On top of that," she went on, with another heavy sigh, "one of my other charges is sick. He's only a baby and one of the ones we've never learned how to communicate with, so we don't know what's wrong or how we can help him. It has the three of us pretty upset."

Throttle could tell that she was on-edge, but she was keeping her emotions under control, or so the tight expression she wore suggested. She stood a little straighter as they left the tube, and Throttle noticed for the first time that they were heading into the guard station.

When they reached the room where the main computers were, Tamerin absently flicked her wrist--the same double-flick she used when she brought them down here from the surface, with her first two fingers extended. The Imeeran sitting at the console, whom Throttle didn't recognize, relaxed in his seat. "Nothing to report yet," he said, as Tamerin folded her arms and looked over his shoulder at the monitor.

"Well, keep me posted. And don't forget to report everything to the General, no matter how boring the details are."

The guard snickered. "You got it."

Tamerin turned back to Throttle. "There's a scout mission going on right now," she explained. "Since we have our new eye-gear, the General decided to send a squad to the surface to scope things out."

"If you were still a scout, would you be up there with them?" Throttle wondered.

Tamerin snorted and started back across the station, heading back to the exit. "Probably. Thankfully, I'm in a position now where I'm not at the General's beck and call anymore."

Throttle was glad to hear it. He'd had his fill of hanging around military women.

* * *

As he roamed the lower level of the city that morning, Modo noticed that the new scanners had spread to the population already. Either that or they were military personnel off duty, with the round silver earring snugly attached to their ears. He saw a few flip the visor on and glance around from time to time, occasionally looking in his direction. The gesture was made casually, and when they saw that there was nothing to see they would smile and move on.

It seemed to him that despite the threat of the war hovering over them all, Imeerans were a quiet, trusting race--or at least willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Which made him wonder, since many of them had lost loved ones, if there was another reason for Jayce's distrusting behavior.

Modo caught glimpses of him from time to time, and whenever he did, regardless of what the dark-skinned male was doing at the time, he always stopped to give him a dark glare. A glare that clearly read 'I'm watching you.' In return, Modo was trying to make sure he didn't step on anyone's toes while he was here - especially Ashlin's. He was only assuming, but he figured since his sister was so close to her, then Jayce probably was, too. He wondered if word of what happened yesterday had gotten to him yet.

Was it really only yesterday? For some reason--maybe because of the lack of perceptible night and day around here--it felt like a lot more time had passed than a mere half a day or so since he had been socked for his less than flattering reaction to Ashlin.

Or maybe it felt like that because he had spent so much time trying to wrap his head around how and why he had almost done the same thing to Throttle a little while ago. If someone had ever told him that he would one day feel a burst of protectiveness over a half-rat, he would have laughed in their face and told them they were off their nut.

It was a strange thought, one that continued to occupy his mind as the day wore on. His stomach was just starting to grumble for lunch when he heard the soft rumble of wheels behind him. He turned and saw Ashlin heading in his direction, pulling another one of those carts behind her. "More supplies?" he asked as she drew closer.

"Food, mostly," she reported, with a tired smile. "Most of our guys have big appetites. Well, except for that one."

Her already droopy demeanor drooped further. Modo frowned in sympathy. "Need a hand with anything?"

"Me? No. Although," she went on, glancing shyly at her boots, "I wouldn't mind a little company. Tam's busy right now, and Dee needs to stay around the hospital in case the scouts on the surface run into any trouble."

"Someone's scoutin' the surface?" Modo wondered.

"General's orders. Now that we can spot the shape-shifters, she's hoping we can find their base or something. Unless they drop from a ship from off planet, they have to be coming from _somewhere_."

She started walking again, and Modo walked with her, brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. "You always this on top of the General's orders?"

Ashlin gave a soft laugh. "Kind of hard not to be. She's Tamerin's mother."

* * *

Charley rushed through her work that day--which had become even more boring for her than ever--before clocking out and hurrying to the parking lot to get her truck. Only as she stepped outside the main door, she stopped and stared. Make that gaped. "Vincent, what are you _doing_?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Vinnie asked, elbow propped on the handlebars of his bike and head propped on his fist--typical cheeky mouse posture.

"It _looks_ like I'm going to have to ram my foot up your butt for needlessly endangering our son," she said icily.

Vinnie just laughed and reached over to pat Vector's head--an easy thing to do, considering that he was currently tucked into a metal box attached to the side of the bike, like a makeshift sidecar. "No worries, Sweetheart," he said calmly. "Just like his daddy, he was born to ride wild and free."

"Wide fee," Vector exclaimed happily.

"If his daddy's not careful, he's going to be riding bald," Charley threatened.

"Hey, I behaved," Vinnie protested, turning defensive. "I rode slow. Honest."

He gave Vector a soft poke. "Go on--tell her why we're here."

Vector clapped his hands, clearly excited about something. "Spo' Mommy!"

Charley blinked. "What?"

Vinnie just grinned his most smug of grins and pointed into the back of the box. Sighing, Charley peered closer...and saw a neatly packed picnic basket and blanket tucked behind their son, who was actually strapped in securely. The distinct odor of hot dogs and chicken teased her nose.

She straightened, feeling something in her heart melting quietly. "Oh."

Vector bounced in his seat. "Spo' Mommy wotten," he said eagerly.

Charley started to laugh. She had to...otherwise she'd start crying. "Well, maybe a _little_ ride wouldn't hurt."

His smug expression turning gentle, Vinnie snagged her around the waist with his tail and tugged her onto the spot behind him. "Just making up for the dinner we didn't get to have the other night," he said mildly.

Charley didn't respond, at least not with words. Instead, she slipped her arms around his chest, just like she had done so many times in the past, and rested her head on his shoulder. With a slow release of breath, she closed her eyes, reveling in the closeness she had missed and longed for so badly the last two years. Knowing what she was thinking, Vinnie rested his hand over hers and held it tightly. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm always here."

Her eyes growing moist, Charley sniffled and lifted her head long enough to kiss his cheek before placing it back on his shoulder. Vinnie gave her hand another squeeze before letting go and starting the engine.

As promised, the ride was slow, but the roar of the bike still drowned out most of the surrounding noise. It made it feel like the three of them were in their own private world. Charley tightened her arms and didn't open her eyes until the ride ended.

Vinnie took them to a park with a small pond in the middle, and they curled up on the blanket under a tree and watched the sun go down. They munched on hot dogs and chicken wings and clinked soda bottles, toasting 'the greatest interstellar romance in history.' Vector nibbled a hot dog and drank milk from his sippy cup before getting up and trying to chase the fireflies that started to come out. He was a little over fifteen months old and walking pretty well these days, but the uneven grass proved a challenge and he only managed a few tottering steps before toppling onto his padded butt. Undaunted, he kept pushing himself to his little feet and trying again.

Vinnie, who was lying back on the blanket, his arm firmly around Charley, snickered as he watched. "Persistent little guy," he observed.

Charley tickled his nose with her fingertip. "Hmm. Now why does that sound familiar?"

Snickering again, he playfully pretended to nip at her finger. With a sigh of contentment, Charley slid her arm around him and held him tightly, tucking her head beneath his chin. Looking a little jealous, Vector crawled onto the blanket and snuggled his way between the two of them. Chuckling, Vinnie tickled him with his tail; Vector giggled and flailed his hands to grab it.

Laughing, Charley settled back and absently curled her fingers around the hand resting on her waist. "So, whaddya think?" Vinnie asked, as he teased their son's tiny nose with the tip of his tail. "Is spoiling mommy fun?"

"Fun," Vector agreed, tugging at the bandana Vinnie always wore around his neck. "Say, do you know whose that is?" Vinnie wondered, as the little mouse pulled the bandana free and started gnawing on it.

Smiling softly, Charley reached up and lightly pinched her son's downy ear. "I think he wants you to say 'Daddy,'" she whispered.

Vector looked too busy stuffing his mouth at the moment to say much of anything. Vinnie let out a sigh, pretending to be put out. "Guess I'll have to amuse myself with spoiling Mommy some more," he mused.

Charley let out another laugh, feeling full and lazy as she cuddled her head against his arm. "You already brought me dinner and now we're cuddling under the stars. What else could you possibly do?"

Vinnie sat up and appeared to think it over. "How 'bout a foot rub?" he suggested.

Without waiting for an answer, he tugged her boot off and started massaging the bottom of her foot. "Um," Charley began, a touch nervously, "that might be nice...but you should wait until we're at home and Vector is in bed."

Vinnie paused, eyeing her curiously. "Why's that?"

"Well..." She glanced at their little son, who had lain back and shut his eyes, still chewing on the bandana. "They can be kind of a turn on. You know, if you do them right."

That was what she had heard, anyway. Something about the nerves in the feet and legs being hooked up to the 'sexual plumbing.'

Vinnie paused, eyebrow arched slyly. "Really?"

He started packing up in a hurry. Charley pretended to be annoyed, but she didn't protest very hard when he dragged her back to his bike. After all...it wasn't like she had work in the morning.

* * *

"So, what's the trouble, little one?"

The little brown ball of fluff cupped in his hands only chirped quietly in response. Modo frowned and continued to softly prod him with his fingertip, trying to coax the little guy's mouth open. Not that he had any idea where his mouth was.

"Hey, I was reading that," Michio suddenly protested as Ashlin took the data pad he was holding out of his hands.

"Reading is a privilege around here," she scolded, "and you've been inexcusably naughty. Now get into bed."

Grumbling, Michio wiggled under the covers and folded his arms, pouting as he stared defiantly at the ceiling. The other children got into bed without complaint, while Ashlin tidied up and placed the youngest ones in their cribs.

It was late--almost dinnertime, according to Ashlin--but Modo continued to linger, like he had done all afternoon. He thought he'd try his hand at coaxing little Ako to eat, but so far he'd had no luck. The little guy seemed to enjoy the extra attention, though, purring quietly whenever Modo poked him. Only after enduring several hours of gentle prodding and being presented with different kinds of food, he seemed to have finally had his fill and started to squirm. With a small sigh, Modo stood and gently placed him in his crib.

After one last look around, Ashlin dimmed the lights. Modo took the hint and started for the door. "Well...goodnight, Ma'am."

Ashlin glanced at him before dropping her eyes, absently wrapping her slender arms around herself. "Do you have to go? I wouldn't mind if you stayed a little more."

Modo was pretty sure he knew why she wanted him to stick around. With Tamerin off somewhere and Deichan-ma'am staying at the hospital for now, prepping for possible wounded, she would have to spend the night alone. He had no doubt that she was afraid of history repeating itself. "Okay," he agreed in a quiet voice. "I'll hang around a little while longer."

"If you get tired, you can have Nena's old bed," Michio suggested, pointing.

Modo pretended to look it over. "Think it might fit my big toe," he mused.

Michio snickered. So did Ashlin, though she tried to hide it behind her hand. "You're supposed to be sleeping," she said sternly.

"Yeah, yeah..."

Michio pulled the blanket up over his head and faked snoring. Pretending to be exasperated with him, Ashlin tucked the extra bed into the wall before leaning to peer in on Ako. "I'll make you an extra special pancake breakfast tomorrow," she promised in a whisper. "Chocolate _and_ marshmallows."

The only response she got was a soft trill. Sighing, she turned out the rest of the lights, until only a dim glow coming from the panel by the door remained. There was a small cot folded in the corner that was no doubt for her use, but instead of unfolding it and lying down, she sat next to the toy bin and wrapped her arms around her upturned knees. Not knowing what else to do, Modo sat beside her, quietly watching as each of the children tossed and fidgeted, until one by one they drifted off to sleep. Michio fidgeted the most--naturally.

Ashlin kept glancing over at Ako's crib, but she didn't get up. "Sorry," she suddenly mumbled, pressing her chin to her knees. "This probably isn't the most exciting way you could be spending your evening."

Modo chuckled softly. "I don't mind a little quiet now and again. Plus I need to take it easy right now, what with this little crack still lingerin' in my skull."

As he spoke, he gingerly touched his eye; the slight pressure brought a dull ache deep inside his eye socket. Wincing, he pulled his fingers away.

Ashlin bit her lip guiltily. "Sorry about that. And don't take it personally. You're not the first guy she's socked because she thought they were being rude to me."

"An overprotective mama," he sighed. "I can relate."

Not that he could remember his demure mama ever lying someone flat like that. In fact, the thought made him snicker a little. Ashlin snickered with him, even though she wasn't sure what he thought was funny. Relaxing, she leaned back against the wall, her expression turning thoughtful. "When you're not babysitting orphans, what else do you like to do?" she wondered.

"Not anythin' I can do around here, unfortunately."

He thought about that unpleasant gnawing feeling he had gotten while up on the surface and shuddered at the thought of trying to fish up there, despite the vast ocean. "What about you?" he wondered. "When the two of them were stuck in the guard station, did you take care of this place by yourself?"

"Mostly. A few neighbors helped out, but it was usually just me. Tamerin even thinks I should take over completely as soon as I turn twenty."

"I bet you could. You're a natural at this."

Flushing with pride, Ashlin rested her head on her knees, a soft smile touching her face. She covered a delicate yawn a moment later; Modo was starting to feel pretty sleepy himself. It was hard to keep his sore eye open anymore, and he took a moment to add another drop before covering a yawn of his own. He wasn't sure when he dozed off, or for how long, but when he opened his eye again Ashlin was curled up on the floor, a stuffed toy tucked under her head like a pillow. Chuckling quietly, he got up to find a blanket.

After he'd draped it over her, his eye rested on Ako's crib. Aside from quiet noises the kids made in their sleep, the room was completely silent--peaceful. Still, he felt a touch of apprehension as he reached over and rested his hand on the round ball of fur snuggled in the crib.

Ordinarily little Ako felt soft and warm, but the form Modo touched was cool...and a little stiff.

Swallowing back the lump that rose into his throat, he drew his hand away and shifted his gaze to Ashlin, who was still sleeping peacefully. He thought about it only for a moment before deciding to let her go on sleeping. To let her have one more night before her heart was broken.


	19. Chapter 19

_Pretty, pretty please_  
_Don't you ever, ever feel_  
_Like you're less than_  
_Less than perfect_

_Pretty, pretty please_  
_If you ever, ever feel_  
_Like you're nothing_  
_You are perfect to me_  
~Perfect;  Pink

"So, what do you think of our little town?" Tamerin wondered.

After leaving the guard station, she and Throttle had spent the rest of the day exploring the city together, with Tamerin leading him to her favorite spots. Eventually they wandered back to the game parlor, where they had spent several hours competing again. Throttle did as badly as last time, but he didn't mind. In fact, sitting here in the ice cream parlor now, wolfing down a giant sundae, he wouldn't go so far as to say he felt happy, but he was definitely content.

"It doesn't suck," he said again, smiling wryly.

Tamerin snorted and stirred her own sundae with her spoon. Then, the gesture casual, she reached over and brushed her fingertips across his hand where it rested on the tabletop. Throttle barely noticed--until he remembered how Imeerans could read emotions through touch.

He had all but forgotten about it, because Tamerin touched him a lot--usually via grabbing his hand and dragging him somewhere. If the sudden touch made out of the blue like that meant anything, normal touches were just that and actually reading someone took a conscious effort--much like sending your thoughts and feelings into someone else's mind.

The big difference was that sending things out through your antennae didn't work unless the other party wanted it to. Anyone could send out their own thoughts and emotions, but if the other person didn't want to have their mind poked into, whether they were Martian or not, they could thrust up guards that blocked the other person out--and usually did even if they weren't aware of what was going on. It was kind of a natural, reflexive defense. 

It was a practice most commonly used to share memories and emotions, and usually only between individuals who were close. It wasn't considered a reliable method for, say, proving one's innocence, since no one could tell what was real memory or fabricated thought. As a result, it was often only used between couples during intimate moments, or between parents and their children to wordlessly convey feelings of love and safety.

It suddenly made Throttle feel a little vulnerable, knowing that Tamerin--or anyone here, for that matter--could tap him with a finger and know exactly what he was feeling. But no one else had done it that he knew of, and he had a feeling if he spoke up and told her that he found the idea intrusive, Tamerin wouldn't do it again. For the moment, it looked like she had only wanted to assess how he was feeling after their afternoon of fun. Judging by the satisfied smile she gave, she was pleased with his mood.

"So, where to now, hot shot?" she asked as she scraped the bottom of her sundae cup.

"You tell me," Throttle said mildly. "It's your town."

Smirking, Tamerin started to say something--and then her wrist com beeped. Frowning, she lifted it and examined the readout a moment, then pressed a button. "Something wrong, Dee?"

"More or less," came Deichan's tired voice.

Tamerin flicked a glance at Throttle. "Personal or professional?"

"Personal. I just got a visit from...I don't even want to say it. Not like this. Can you come to the hospital?"

Tamerin was already pushing her chair back. "I'm on my way. Sorry, hot shot," she said as she switched off, "but it looks like you'll have to fill in the rest of the night without me."

"Fine by me," Throttle said with a yawn. "I'm ready to fill in the nearest soft space until breakfast."

"If that's a hint that you want to borrow my couch again, knock yourself out. If Dee's calling me for the reason I think she is, I probably won't be going home tonight."

She left, and Throttle got up a moment later and did the same, though it still felt weird to not have to pay for anything. He'd come to understand that most Imeerans had relatively small appetites--another way they had been designed to survive under harsh conditions, he assumed--and since most of their food was gathered off planet, it was free to everyone...as long as no one went crazy. Three meals a day and the occasional snack was the norm around here; anything more than that and you were expected to do the owner a favor in return for pigging out.

After leaving the ice cream parlor and heading down to the lower level, Throttle suddenly spotted Rimfire coming out of the large, dome-shaped structure positioned in the center of the city. Aside from being at the center, it was the largest building in the entire city...and he was pretty sure he knew what it was for. "What have you been up to?" he asked as the two mice met up in the middle of the street.

"Just scoping things out," the young mouse responded lightly. "This is a big city and there's a lot to see."

"Really? I've been scoping things out, too, and I haven't seen much of you around."

Rimfire cast a glance over his shoulder. "Well, to be honest, I've kind of been hanging out in only one or two places."

Throttle followed his gaze to the huge domed building, eyebrows lifted. "I thought we came here to take a vacation from military," he commented dryly.

"We did," Rimfire said, then rushed on, his voice almost sounding eager, "but things operate way differently here than any other place I've seen. Did you know that everyone in this city is considered..."

Throttle must have had one seriously disinterested look on his face, because Rimfire trailed off and didn't finish. "Where are you headed?" he asked instead.

"To sleep. You?"

"Actually, I have to meet somebody," he said, with a glance at his wrist. Throttle lifted his eyebrows a second time; Rimfire was wearing the same silver wristband that Tamerin, Deichan, and most members of the military wore. "Planning to enlist?" he asked, his tone drier than a Martian desert.

"No," Rimfire muttered with a scowl. "It was a gift. I gotta go--catch you later."

He rushed off and vanished from sight in the bustling center of town. Giving his head a puzzled shake, Throttle continued on to the residential area.

* * *

Modo hadn't known what else to do. He didn't want the little guy to just lie there until morning, especially if something could still be done for him, so he had hurried straight to the hospital to tell Deichan-ma'am. She had rushed back to the orphanage with him and quietly taken Ako back with her, without waking Ashlin in the process...thank goodness.

Shortly after the petite doctor left, Tamerin breezed in and shot him a look that clearly said 'get out.' Modo retreated outside and went to the park, where he spent a restless night, alternately sitting on the bench next to the affectionate bird and pacing by the fountain. In the short time he'd been here, he'd come to recognize a certain bell-tone that came from the restaurant he usually ate at that announced that breakfast was ready to be served, so when he heard it in the distance, he left the park and headed back to the orphanage.

When he got there, there was a red symbol flashing on the screen next to the door that obviously meant 'closed.' Tentatively he knocked on the closed door--and jumped back as it popped open with a swish that sounded as angry as the glare Tamerin gave him. "What?" she asked shortly.

"I just wanted to know how she's doing," Modo faltered. "I mean, she must be pretty upset--"

"Like you care," Tamerin muttered, eyes narrowing.

Modo fought back a wave of impatience. "I do. I was wrong to judge her the way I did and I'm sorry. I couldn't have been more wrong about her."

Something in Tamerin's expression softened...but only a little. "She said she was going to the surface. And she probably wants to be alone."

Modo stared at her. "You let her go to the surface by _herself_?"

"No, I didn't," Tamerin corrected him, sounding tired and impatient. "The scouts are up there, plus she's armed. She might look puny and helpless to you, but she knows how to defend herself. I ought to know--I trained her."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she stepped back and closed the door. Modo thought about it for only a moment before turning and hurrying to the guard station. He had heard that there were other portals to the surface, but this was the only one he knew, so this was where he went. Fortunately, it was Trent working the controls today. "Hey," he greeted cheerfully as Modo came in. "What can I do for you?"

"If you could send me topside, that would be great."

Trent looked up from his keyboard with a surprised frown. "You serious? You want to leave planet or just take a walk? Because if you want to stretch your legs, there's about a dozen other places around here that are a lot safer for your health."

"Just for a few minutes," Modo pressed firmly.

The raven-haired male narrowed his eyes a little as he studied him. "Here: I'm not sending anyone out there without one of these."

As he spoke, he dug in one of his pockets and pulled out one of the silver studs that had become such a fashion trend around here. "If you don't want to spare one of the holes you've already got," he said as Modo took out one of his gold hoops, "you could always pay my girl a visit. She does all the piercing around here, and her brother does tattooing."

Modo didn't have any plans to add anything to himself, but tattoo parlors were always fun to browse. "Maybe later," he said.

"Don't forget to grab a suit."

Forget? Not likely, Modo thought, as he went to the nearby locker and pulled one out. After tugging it on, he grabbed his helmet from where he'd left it on the top shelf and placed it snugly on his head. "Ready," he said.

Trent tapped a set of keys and the outer door opened. Modo stepped through the short corridor and into the lift; the outer door closed and locked behind him, followed by the lift doors. After a moment of quiet, there was that same distant sand-like whisper, along with that feeling like riding a wave. When it stopped with a clunk, the door opened and for a moment he was blinded by that yellow-orange haze.

It was worse than he remembered. Either that or there was a storm brewing. Dust was kicking up around him, and the sickly sky above him looked even sicklier than it did the first time he saw it. Vowing not to look at it too closely, he started walking, though the dizzying affect of the atmosphere made it a challenge to put his feet where he wanted them to go. That funny gnawing feeling was back, too; he gave his head a shake and kept going.

He had no idea which way to go, but then he suddenly remembered the scanner attached to his ear and thumped the side of his helmet. For a moment he thought he would have to go back into the lift and take his helmet off to turn it on, but then the stud responded and sent a translucent beam across his eye. Even through his helmet's visual enhancements he had still had trouble seeing; now his vision cleared, the orange haziness fading and replaced by a dull brown with a heavy darkness in the distance. There was nothing to see, he soon realized. Where the ground wasn't flat, it was rocky.

There was no sign of the scouts, but as he started walking again, the beam registered a shape in the far distance, a shape that was vaguely lizard-like...and according to the data that blinked at the edge of his vision, it was about the size of a two-story building.

He hadn't forgotten how Tamerin mentioned something about the local wildlife being less than friendly, and he moved on with caution. Glancing downward, he noticed suddenly that there were sets of footprints in the dirt, and according to the digital readout blinking at the fringes of his vision, some were fresher than others, giving off a faint heat reading. The warmest set was also the smallest; Modo followed them at the quickest pace he could manage...which wasn't all that fast, since his head kept swimming.

And speaking of swimming...he almost didn't notice until it was too late as he slid down a small hill that the dark spot stretching in front of him and melting into the rest of the darkness was the edge of the ocean. It was calmer here, what with most of the wind skirting over the little valley he found himself in, though the waves slapped noisily at the brackish shore as the water of the ocean churned restlessly. Resting on her knees at the shoreline was Ashlin.

She heard him sliding down the hill, but she only glanced at him before going back to what she was doing. Modo quietly stepped over and knelt beside her. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he told her softly.

The visor of her helmet was tinted, but he could still see the tears streaming down her face. Her hands shook as she pulled out a lighter and tried to light the small candle she was holding. "Did you hear what happened to him?" she asked, her voice faint and thick with tears. "They took his body to the hospital. Deichan says she has to run a few tests to see if she can find out what he died from. And to make sure it wasn't a disease that could have passed on to the others."

Modo felt the same lump from last night rise into his throat. He knew what that meant: autopsy. Ashlin clenched the lighter tightly and finally managed to light the candle. "They wouldn't even let me see him. I begged but everyone said no. I didn't know what else to do, so I came out here."

As she spoke, she placed the candle into a small box-shaped lantern made from paper. With the candle inside, it glowed softly in the oppressive darkness. "What's that you're doin'?" Modo asked gently as she carefully placed the lantern out on the waves.

Ashlin swallowed thickly. "It's a tradition Tamerin learned on Earth. She says some people there do this to try to light the way for a loved one who has passed on. It's supposed to help guide them safely to the next world."

The wind picked up, and the quiet glow was tugged farther out onto the ocean. Ashlin sat back on her heels and pressed her hands over her visor. "I was supposed to take care of him," she whispered, a sob rising into her throat. "I was supposed to..."

The sob broke free and she doubled over, curling up in a ball and pressing her head against the sand as she broke down. While she wept uncontrollably, the little lantern faded into the distance and blinked out of sight. "Maybe I really am bad," Modo heard her whisper.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had reached for her. Pulled her up from the sand and gathered her slender frame into his arms, where he held her as she shook with anguish and emotion. "Don't you dare believe that, darlin'," he told her quietly, firmly. "Anybody who ever said anything bad about you was dead-wrong, and completely stupid. They'd have to be to not see in an instant that you're the most caring, compassionate person anyone could hope to meet."

Ashlin continued to tremble in his arms, her body wracked with sobs that echoed into the distance. Gradually they started to subside, until only quiet, steady tears remained. "I think I flooded my helmet," she mumbled.

Modo allowed himself a quiet chuckle and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Come on. We should get back inside."

The petite Martian nodded distantly and sat up. Her dark eyes, visibly puffy from crying, studied him for a moment. "What did you call me?"

"When?"

"Before."

Puzzled, Modo thought back, but he was pretty sure he hadn't call her anything special. "Never mind," Ashlin said absently as she stood. "Let's just go back inside before something comes along and eats us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the lyrics for this chapter are a huge departure from what I normally use, but I felt that song was too beautiful (albeit vulgar) and too fitting not to use. I posted the clean version because...well, just because.


	20. Chapter 20

Vinnie had been dozing off on the living room sofa when a sound suddenly woke him. It was a very unhappy sound, one that he had been hearing since late Saturday night. It was Monday morning already and Charley was at work, so that meant he was left alone to deal with one seriously distressed little mouse.

As promised, Saturday had been put aside to do laundry--every bit of laundry he and Charley could find, leaving them with less than their skivvies to run around the apartment in. It had been such a fun, fun day...but come nightfall, Vector had started to fuss. He continued to fuss throughout Sunday, and Charley soon discovered why.

"It's his incisors," she reported. "They're finally coming in."

Martian mice usually weren't fully weened until they were a little over a year old, and by then they had all their other baby teeth, but it was normal for a few more months to pass before the two largest, sharpest teeth started to come in. A little Martian mouse genetic quirk that Vinnie was sure nursing mommies appreciated.

Vector already had a perfect mouth of pearly baby teeth, which Charley said he cut with flying colors, but the pair of over-sized teeth currently working to break their way through his tender gums had him in constant tears. He started running a small fever, too, which had Vinnie nervous, but Charley insisted it was normal and told him to give him teething rings and the toaster waffles she kept in the freezer before she hurried off to work Monday morning.

Vinnie spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon vainly passing his son things to chew on, but he would only gnaw on a teething ring for a few minutes before starting to fuss again, and the waffles thawed out quickly in his warm, furry hands. Vector continued to fuss and cry constantly, which wouldn't have bothered Vinnie so much if he had only been unhappy and in need of cheering up. No, his helpless little son was in pain, and that made him want to cry right along with him.

He tried calling Charley for help once, something she discouraged him from doing since no one she worked with knew she even had a baby, let alone one that was only half human--something she was adamant about ever getting out. She told him to try to feed him and to make sure to change his diaper if he had an accident. Vector was already mostly potty trained and generally only had accidents during the night, but he was kind of distracted today.

Vinnie tried to feed him, but he only accepted cold drinks and refused anything he had to chew. Vinnie eventually put him back in his playpen with a pile of his favorite toys, hoping something would get his mind off his discomfort, but nothing seemed to work.

With a heavy sigh, Vinnie dropped to the sofa and propped his chin in his hands. Vector kept on fussing and spouting unhappy baby gibberish; Vinnie's eyes fixed dully on a spot on the coffee table as he tried to think of what else he could do. A quick ride? No, Charley-girl would probably deck him when she got back. Another round of teething rings? No, Vector had given up on them and was grumpily gnawing on the rim of the playpen.

The sight of his tiny son's face matted and damp with tears made Vinnie's heart ache, and he focused on the coffee table again. He continued to mutter to himself, vaguely aware of his son's unhappy sounds while he mulled the problem over. "Maybe if I..."

"Daddy."

Vinnie absently twitched his nose for a moment--then sat up straighter as he jerked his gaze to the playpen. "What did you say?"

Vector let out a pitiful whine and stretched his arms over the rim of the playpen. "Daddy," he said again, his voice full of pleading.

It was only one word, but it spoke volumes. I'm in pain, Daddy, please help me.

With tears welling in his eyes, Vinnie scooped him up and cradled him in his arms. "It's okay," he whispered as he sank back into the sofa. "You go ahead and cry all you want. And I won't let go until you're done."

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, quietly rocking his little son and whispering words of comfort, but Vector eventually nodded off, his tiny fist clinging to his bandana as his head rested on his father's shoulder. Vinnie ended up nodding off with him, lulled by the quiet that descended on the apartment. He woke up when he felt a pair of arms tighten around his neck and a warm set of lips kiss the top of his head.

"Hey, gorgeous," Charley greeted softly, lovingly.

"Please, go on," Vinnie prodded eagerly.

Charley chuckled quietly and gently took Vector from his arms; the little mouse fidgeted but went on dreaming. "Looks like you did good," she noted in a whisper. "You can go back to sleep now. Let me know when you're rested up, so I can drag you off to get married."

Vinnie let out a long yawn--and nearly fell off the sofa. " _What_?"

Charley had already left the room; he quickly got up and followed her into the bedroom. "You know, he keeps trying to crawl out of his cradle and into bed with us," she mused as she tucked Vector in. "It's going to be a while before he's big enough for an actual bed, so I should probably find a full-sized crib soon, so he doesn't end up falling out and hurting himself."

"Don't change the subject," Vinnie said weakly. "What was that about getting married?"

Charley turned around slowly, lightly chewing her bottom lip. He couldn't help but notice how cute she looked when she did that--even though he was almost stunned speechless right now. "Don't Martians get married?" she wondered.

"Yeah, but not in the ways they usually do around here," Vinnie responded dazedly. "Warn me next time you want to spring something like that on me."

"It shouldn't come as much of a surprise," Charley noted with a sniff. "You're the only one I'll ever want. And I don't want to make a big deal about this; I just want to promise to be with you forever. That's all. No bells and whistles, just a vow."

Vinnie felt something inside him melt, and he quickly gathered her into his arms. "I want that too," he murmured, cheek pressed against her soft hair. "I'll promise to love you forever anywhere you want me to."

Her face aglow, Charley wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Thank you. Now go change into those new undies I got you and come to bed. I can't sleep until I'm wrapped up in warm fur."

"I think you mean hot, sweetheart."

* * *

Over the next few days, Modo noticed a change around the Imeeran city. It was subtle, but he definitely noticed that the locals weren't moving around in the same way they had been since he first came down here. Instead of moving at a relaxed pace or rushing to meet someone, chattering the entire time, they mostly moved at a brisk trot, heads down and exchanging whispers with each other. It seemed like everyone had the earring scanners now, and they were constantly switched on.

He didn't see any sign of anyone he knew, Imeeran or otherwise, for at least two days, so it took him completely by surprise when he suddenly bumped into Throttle one evening. "Hey, bro," Throttle greeted, sounding bored. "Wanna grab some dogs?"

"And how," said Modo eagerly.

They headed to what had quickly become their favorite restaurant and ordered a mound of those exotic-tasting hot dogs. "First chance we get," Modo said as he chowed down, "we should beg Tamerin to take a trip to Earth and bring back crates of root beer."

Throttle's gaze turned distant. "I haven't seen her in a while. Not sure what she's up to."

"You've spent a lot of time together since we got here," Modo observed casually.

Throttle brushed the comment off just as casually. "She's kind of my tour guide. That's all."

"Wish I had a tour guide that hot," Modo lamented with a sigh.

Throttle opened his mouth to snap something--then shut it again with a shake of his head."Have you seen Rimfire?" he asked, blatantly changing the subject.

"Once or twice. Never for long, though."

That boy always seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere when he saw him. Funny thing, considering that he didn't know anyone or have anywhere to be down here. "Feels weird without him," Modo noted. "I know it was a slightly different trio when we first left Mars together, but it was still a trio. Now it's mostly a duo."

"Or running solo," Throttle finished. "I've noticed. It's weird, but I don't mind. It's given me time to think."

Modo was glad, having a feeling he knew exactly what--or rather who--he needed to think about. "It's still weird. I wonder how Vinnie's doin' without us?"

"Probably tearing the city apart," Throttle said, unconcerned. "He'll fly back to Mars when he's ready."

"Might've already. Or at least left us a message, which we're not there to get."

Throttle appeared to think about that for a moment. "Okay," he said, "we'll head over to check soon. It's not like we have to worry about long travel time."

They finished eating and parted ways outside. Not that Modo had _wanted_ to part ways, but Throttle caught sight of Tamerin's snow white figure coming out of one of the tubes and ran to meet her. 'It's okay to find comfort in somebody else,' Modo wanted to tell him, but kept his mouth shut. Throttle'd figure it out.

Not knowing where else to go, he eventually wandered into the park, which was quieter than ever. A few days ago he saw Trent and his mate Melina here playing with their two newly adopted children, but now they were nowhere to be seen. That exotic bird was on his usual perch on the bench, though. Ashlin had told him he was named Almandine, after the gemstone, but everyone had nicknamed him Al.

"Hey," Modo greeted as he scratched his flame-red head. "You lonely, little bro?"

Al chirruped quietly and puffed his feathers. He suddenly turned his head, black eyes blinking curiously. A second later Modo heard footsteps, and then he saw Ashlin coming around a bend in the path. She still looked downcast, but her eyes were dry.

She brightened considerably when she saw him. "There you are--I've been looking for you."

"Oh? Somethin' I can do for you?"

The slender Martian turned shy as she pulled something out of her pocket and held it out to him. "I, uh, made this for you. To say thanks for putting up with my waterworks the other day."

It was a glossy white shell, shaped similar to a nautilus, with hints of pale pink in the ridges and grooves. Attached to one end near the opening of the shell was a series of soft cords decorated with tiny feathers and beads, each one brightly colored. "It's the shell of one of the longest living creatures in the Malterian sea," Ashlin explained, as she glanced shyly at the ground. "It's supposed to be a symbol of health and good fortune."

Modo ran his thumb over the curve of the shell, noting that even though it was satin-smooth and thin, it felt strong as steel. "Well, thank you, darlin', that was awfully sweet of you."

Ashlin grinned at him for a moment. She looked almost smug for some reason. "How're you holdin' up?" he asked, as he slipped the ornate shell into the pocket of his jeans.

"Okay, I guess," she murmured, lightly kicking her toe on the brick path. "I've kind of left Tam to fend for herself at the orphanage, but I just can't go back yet. The others kept asking me about Ako, wanting to know when he's coming back..."

Her eyes started to fill, but she squeezed them shut and shook her head. "It's not your fault," Modo told her, as gently as he knew how. "And you just go ahead and cry as much as you need to."

She absently wiped her eyes as she looked up at him, a smile touching her face. "That's just what Tam said."

Modo smiled faintly in return. "She must love you a lot."

"She's like my mother," Ashlin noted wistfully as she stepped over and stroked Al. "Sometimes I wish she really was my mother. But she's never officially adopted me."

"Why not?" Modo wondered.

The small Martian gave a shrug. "Because she's alone. She's not opposed to the idea of having one, but she's never found a mate. And she's not really concerned about having someone around to help her look after a child while she's away--just about any neighbor is willing to lend a hand with that--but the thought of me being left alone if something were to happen to her bothers her. If she had a mate, that would leave me in their care, but since she doesn't...she's chosen to teach me to be independent instead. I'm about of age now anyway, so it really doesn't matter."

She shrugged again. "Jayce is worse; he's chosen to never mate, ever. I wasn't born yet when it happened, but I've heard all about how he saw his and Tam's father die in combat. Their mother was supposedly a completely different person back then, but now...Tam told me that when Ian died, her heart died with him. Which is actually not the least bit uncommon around here--that's why Imeerans are so cautious with choosing their mates," she went on, absently leaning on the back of the bench. "They only ever mate for life, so they're really, really careful with who they end up with. Though it's actually not that hard when it comes down to it; with the ability to almost read minds like they can, when they find the right one for them...they just kind of know."

Modo thought about that for a moment. "So, with that kind of a connection, losin' your special someone is even harder for them than it is for most," he surmised.

"Exactly. That's why Jayce has stayed single all these years; he's too afraid of finding someone only to lose them. He doesn't want to turn into his mother. Not that she's a bad person," she quickly added. "She's just...cold."

Hurt, Modo concluded silently. So hurt and broken she had wrapped herself up in a safe cocoon of unfeeling ice. He felt sorry for her. "Must be hard," he mused, "chasin' away all the pretty females that admire him."

Ashlin flashed a grin that was slightly mischievous. "Harder than you think. He's madly in love with Dee--but don't tell anyone, because it's supposed to be a secret."

"As in a secret to no one except the Doc herself," Modo commented wryly. "Gotcha."

Ashlin smiled in amusement for a moment, then watched as Al flapped his wings and flew up into a nearby tree. She frowned a second later. "Uh-oh...looks like Tam has plans for the night."

Her eyes were on the transparent pathways of the second level, and even from down here, Modo could still recognize the beautiful Imeeran's mane of white hair. A distinct silhouette marked by mouse ears walked beside her. "Dee's still hanging out at the hospital, so that means she must have roped somebody else in to watch the orphanage," she added with a sigh. "Okay, brooding over. I better get back there."

She still looked awfully hesitant about it. Modo felt himself smile. "Want some company?"

Ashlin relaxed and smiled back gratefully. "Please."

* * *

As soon as they met up by the tube, Throttle could tell that Tamerin was seriously on-edge. He hadn't seen her since the night she got the call from the hospital, which she briefly told him now had something to do with one of the orphans...but that wasn't what had her upset. "The scouts were attacked," she said as she marched briskly across the upper level. "Make that ambushed."

"Was anyone badly hurt?"

"Not permanently. Though a couple of them won't be waking up any time soon."

That explained why everyone here was acting so strangely all of a sudden. They had been hoping that now that the shape-shifters could be spotted, this kind of thing was in the past. Everyone was rattled--and disappointed. Throttle knew the feeling. "At least no one was killed," he commented quietly.

Tamerin didn't seem to hear him; she had turned off the main path and was heading into a small, darkly-lit building. Like most Imeeran businesses it had a dark interior, and there were bright lights attached to the walls above rows of small pictures. Pictures of various kind of art, Throttle noted--like in a tattoo parlor.

In fact, they _were_ in a tattoo parlor, with all the basic facilities laid out on the floor--for piercings, too. The light glinted off glass and steel cabinets and rows of glass cases full of glistening studs, bars, and rings. Aside from the earring scanners, Throttle had noticed that most Imeerans didn't have Tamerin's misgivings about how easily their flesh healed after it had been punctured and had at least one stud in each ear, and Melina had a navel piercing.

Other than the chubby silver stud in her right ear, Tamerin didn't have any piercings. "Is this your first visit?" he wondered, eyeing her flawless white skin.

"Hardly. I get a tattoo whenever I'm in a bad mood. I usually don't keep them, though."

"Removal isn't a technology we Martians have perfected yet," Throttle commented, as Tamerin greeted a male she called Rhys.

"Yes, well, when you don't have anything else to do with your time other than avoid your enemy, perfecting other people's technologies becomes a bit of a hobby. I'll take the usual," she told the brown-skinned male.

"The usual?" Throttle echoed, as the tattoo artist switched on a bright light over a padded bench.

"She likes wings," Rhys explained with a smile.

While he gathered his tray of supplies, Tamerin started tugging her shirt over her head. Surprised and embarrassed, even though she had her back to him, Throttle quickly looked away. When he dared to sneak a peek again, she was lying on her stomach on the bench, arms folded beneath her head. The bare skin of her back gleamed in the bright light. The glow of it made him think of Earth's moon...only smooth and perfect.

"What about you?" Rhys asked as he prepped the needle. "You in the market for new ink?"

"Not at the moment."

Inking a mouse was a bit more challenging than inking someone without fur. The spot had to be shaved first, and there was a special ingredient in Martian ink that kept the fur from growing back where the tattoo was. Otherwise it would get covered over.

Tamerin's inking didn't take long, and when it was done, she had an image of two feathered wings done in black outstretched on her upper back. Entwined around them was a sprig of leaves and a couple of flowers. Simple, basic...yet striking and elegant.

"Awesome as usual," Tamerin assessed as she sat up and looked over her shoulder. "I'll bring you more art ideas next time I head off planet," she promised.

After tugging her shirt back on, she left the parlor. "Where to now?" Throttle wondered as he followed her.

She gave a shrug. "Doesn't matter. I'm not sleepy."

They roamed the brightly-colored upper level for a while, but it just wasn't the same as before. People weren't happy anymore, and a sense of tension had settled into the air. Tamerin eventually paused at a spot where the clear pathway came to an end, curving in a circle with a bench to rest on in the middle, illuminated softly by a light post. Amid the uncomfortable silence Throttle took a seat, while Tamerin went and gazed down over the metal railing that fenced the paths, keeping the residents from tumbling to the level below by accident. Judging by the distant look in her eyes, Tamerin wasn't really seeing anything.

"I'm tired," she murmured.

He knew exactly what she meant. She wasn't tired physically; she was tired of the way they had to live. She was tired of living under a threat. They all had to be by now.

With a sigh, she turned and sank into the empty space next to him. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Tell me about something else."

Throttle shrugged uncertainly. "Like what?"

Her eyes continued to be distant, unseeing. "I didn't get to know Mars very well the last two times I was there. Tell me about that. Remind me what life is like when you're not at war."

"Kind of hard to, since we _were_ at war for a long time," he reminded her quietly. But he found himself delving into the whole story. Before he knew it, he was talking about himself, too, going into detail about his past, his bros, even his failed relationship--even though she already knew all about _that_.

Tamerin stayed quiet the entire time he talked, so he wasn't sure what she was thinking. Her blue eyes had lost their distant look, at least, instead focusing on him as she listened to his voice. It was so soft, and so subtle, she had probably been doing it for several minutes before he noticed that she was brushing her fingertips up and down his arm.

It struck him as a very absent, careless gesture, one she was probably only barely aware she was making. But it made him feel vulnerable--exposed. He had always been excellent at masking his emotions, so to know that she could figure out exactly what he was feeling just by a soft touch...

She must have picked up on his apprehension, because before he completed the thought that he wanted to edge away she had moved her hand, resting it in between them on the bench. Her blue eyes never left his, and there was something sad deep inside them. Something full of quiet emotion--emotion that wasn't for herself, but for him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice softer than a breeze. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't have to ask what she meant. She was sorry that he had been hurt that way. She was sorry he was alone now. And...

And right now, just as plainly as if she had said so out loud, he knew that she wanted to kiss him--kiss his pain away. The realization sent a quiet jolt through him that left his heart thumping. Her pale lips looked moist and dewy as she leaned closer, her hand lifting slowly--reaching out like she wanted to touch the spot where his heart was beating so rapidly.

Throttle pushed her hand away. "Don't."

Tamerin immediately withdrew, closing her fingers into a loose fist and averting her gaze. Throttle felt shaken as he got to his feet and started walking away. As the distance between them grew, more than once he felt the urge to stop and look back, but he forced himself not to. His ears tingled as he listened for the sound of her getting up to follow him, to stop him, but she didn't.

He didn't know whether to feel relieved...or disappointed.


	21. Chapter 21

"Things are startin' to look a little lonely around here, little bro," Modo observed.

The orphanage, which had reopened again now that Ashlin was back on duty, had emptied considerably over the last few days. Only a handful of children remained other than Michio, and despite the attack, Modo doubted they would be around much longer. Judging by the way Ashlin described them and by his own personal observations, Imeerans were very loving beings in spite of the hardness brought on by war, and they cherished their families and children more than anything.

"I know they're supposed to be careful right now and all," Modo said, as something he'd been wondering about popped back into his mind, "but ain't it a little strange that there haven't been any, y'know, surprises in all this time?"

Ashlin gave a laugh. "Not around here. And speaking of surprises," she went on, growing stern as she turned to Michio, "We've got more guests coming in the morning, so can we please try for that best behavior we haven't quite been able to manage?"

"Nope," Michio said, unconcerned.

Ashlin let out an impatient sigh. "You've told me more than once that you want to be adopted, so what's the problem?"

"Dunno," the fuzzy white creature said lazily.

"Well, if you act up tomorrow, Tam is _not_ going to be happy with you."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Scowling, Ashlin shooed him into bed. Modo folded his arms and leaned over him. "I'll be watching you," he warned.

Michio stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes. Ashlin sighed again and dimmed the lights. "You wouldn't act this way if Tam was here, would you?"

"Yup."

"I give up..."

Michio snickered to himself. Ashlin frowned at him, then turned to Modo. "You can go now if you want," she said softly, smiling. "I can take it from here."

"You sure? I wouldn't mind stayin' the night, if you want me to."

Ashlin opened her mouth to reply, but a nearby beeping interrupted. Looking puzzled, she went over to the screen on the wall near the door and pressed a button. She studied something for a moment, then took a step back, looking even more puzzled--and a little scared. "It's a message from one of Deichan's nurses. She says I should come to the hospital right away."

She rubbed her clawed fingers together nervously, then glanced at the gray mouse standing next to her. "I could tag along," he offered.

Ashlin relaxed visibly. "Thank you. You're very sweet."

Modo felt his ears warm a little. "When I ain't puttin' my foot in my mouth," he mumbled.

She reached to give his hand a squeeze. "Forget about that. I have."

Modo felt something stir deep inside him as she smiled up at him. He'd never met anyone so forgiving before. Or so kind-hearted, or generous, or...so very pretty, too thick fur and all.

After locking the door, they started for the hospital together. It wasn't a long walk from Stardust House, but Ashlin was agitated, which made her chattier than usual. After mentioning a few innocuous things, she suddenly brushed his right hand and asked, very softly, "Pardon my curiosity, but...how did this happen?"

Not in the mood to go into great detail right now, Modo gave her a brief, vague account of how he lost his eye and wound up with his replacement arm. And then, as he had suspected she might, she asked, "Have you considered talking to Dee about it?"

He gave his head a shake. "Nope. I'm used to it, plus I'm not comfortable with operations. Not even ones performed by angel-faced doctors."

"Lots of people here have replaced limbs," Ashlin noted absently. "Tamerin lost her foot a few years ago. Trouble is," she went on, with a small giggle, "even after all these years, no one has been able to control how strong replaced limbs are. Regrowing them is one thing, but when a copy is made and then attached...it's always stronger than the original. There was a complication so they couldn't regrow her foot, and it took her ages to get used to it. Even now, I think if she's not careful she'll kick off too hard and trip herself."

She giggled again. Modo could tell that she didn't really think it was funny; she was just nervous. "Don't be scared," he told her gently. "Whatever it is, I'll be right there with you."

"I'm not scared," she said firmly, though she paused to give herself a shake before heading up the hospital's front walk. It was kind of silly, but Modo hurried ahead of her until he was close enough for the automatic door to open. "After you, Ma'am," he said, gesturing inside.

Ashlin wrinkled her nose a little as she stepped past him. "I like your other name for me better."

"What name?" Modo asked, confused.

She just smiled, looking almost smug again. They headed up to the second floor, where a nurse greeted them and took them to a room near the end of the hall. "Where's Deichan?" Ashlin wondered.

"Indisposed, I'm afraid. But she told me to tell you immediately if there was any change in our little patient."

Ashlin gave her a funny look. "Patient?"

The nurse looked apologetic. "She wanted to tell you sooner, but the readings were so strange we weren't sure. We ran a few tests and it looked like the little one brought here a few days ago had slipped into some form of suspended animation, but we weren't completely sure until he woke up."

For a moment Ashlin only stared, bewildered--and then she wobbled on her feet. Modo quickly grabbed her arm, steadying her. "He woke...?" Ashlin repeated faintly.

The nurse gestured to a bed at the back of the room, then left quietly. Ashlin, who had gone rigid, turned to look up at Modo, her face full of confusion--and fear. She was afraid she was dreaming, that what she was hearing was too good to be true.

"Don't be scared," he told her again, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm right here."

She nodded mechanically, and he had to gently steer her to get her to move. When they reached the bed at the back, something curled up on the covers sat up--something with a body similar to an Earth cat, with a bushy tail and clawed paws shaped almost like hands. Thin green stripes ran down the brown fur of its back, long pointed ears with green tips extended from its round head...and large, bright blue eyes blinked at them. A small mouth beneath a tiny black nose turned up in a smile. "Ashie!"

Ashlin bolted forward, threw her arms around the little creature and burst into tears. Relieved that the little guy was okay, Modo stood quietly and watched as she hugged, kissed, and cuddled the purring creature like there was no tomorrow. "I okay," Ako said in a high-pitched, baby-like voice. "Nappy made me grow big."

Ashlin let out a shaky breath and held him even tighter. "Don't ever scare me like that again," she murmured, sniffling.

"I try."

Sniffling again, Ashlin cradled the purring furball in her arms and turned around, smiling through her tears. "Thanks for coming with me. And thanks for putting up with more waterworks."

Modo chuckled softly. "My pleasure."

Still smiling, Ashlin reached out and put an arm around him, rested her head against his middle and let out a sigh that sounded an awful lot like contentment. "Seriously...you're the best."

* * *

For the next few days, Throttle kept to himself. Not that he actually wanted to be completely by himself, but he wasn't sure where Modo was hanging out at, he didn't want to go anywhere near where Rimfire always seemed to hang out...and he deliberately avoided running into Tamerin.

After what almost happened the other night, he didn't feel comfortable--or safe--being with her, especially alone. It was too risky, too close to something he wasn't ready to face right now. Maybe not ever.

He considered heading home once or twice, but Modo and Rimfire seemed to still be having fun, so he stuck around. Not that he couldn't just head back without them, but...he honestly didn't feel ready to go back to Mars just yet. So he wandered the city, noting absently how everyone still seemed on-edge as they went about their daily lives. But even then, they still gave off a friendly air, greeting or at least smiling at him when they passed. Throttle didn't feel very sociable right now, so he merely nodded in return as he wandered the upper level, which was unusually quiet today. He drifted past the ice cream parlor--and stopped short.

The outside patio of the parlor was anything but quiet; Tamerin had brought a handful of the orphans--or maybe all the orphans that were left--out for a treat. Ashlin was with them, and it looked like she was trying to get the small goat-like boy to stop spinning around on the seat he was perched on. "Hey, I'm only doing it until my order comes," he pointed out logically. "I'm no dummy."

"No, just setting a bad example," Ashlin retorted.

Sitting at the next table over, Tamerin didn't look at all concerned. She was busy cuddling something that looked like a brown-and-green cross between a cat and a fox, who was purring happily under the display of affection. "I think you'll be adopted next," she mused, cradling the creature in her arms like a baby. "I'll know you'll make some lonely soul very happy--and if they don't treasure you like you deserve I'll personally punch them in the nose."

The little creature giggled as she proceeded to pepper his furry head with noisy kisses. Looking jealous, the boy with the off-white fur stopped spinning his seat, hopped down and crawled into Tamerin's lap. The cat-fox creature leaped out of the way with an unhappy clicking sound.

"What about me?" the boy asked as he clung to Tamerin's neck. "You love me, right?"

"I love you just as much as everyone else," she told him, her tone crisp but her eyes affectionate. "And if you don't start behaving soon, you're going to be in _big_ trouble."

"I'm perfectly behaved," the boy insisted as he rubbed his head against her shoulder. "See?"

Tamerin didn't look very convinced, but she seemed content to hold him quietly while the rest of the children happily ate their dishes of ice cream. It was kind of funny, Throttle thought as he watched the scene from a distance, how full of opposites Tamerin was. She could be bossy and pushy, and downright violent when she was mad...but he had seen her with the orphans before and it was obvious that she loved each one of her wards like they were her own, and she was infinitely patient and caring when she was with them.

And there was a soft look in her eyes as she continued to hold the goat-like child close in her arms, a look that was warm and tender...and hinted that it wasn't quite true that her affection for each of her wards was equal..

Suddenly sensing that she was being watched, Tamerin looked up and spotted him; Throttle hastily stepped back, moving behind the cover of a lamp post. "You can handle getting these guys home without me, right?" he heard her say. "There's something I need to take care of."

Throttle had had a feeling she would track him down eventually, so he held his ground and waited, though he didn't bother acting happy to see her as she leaned a hand on the post and looked at him. In return for his coolness she didn't smile at him, but there was a softness in her bright blue eyes. "I want to apologize for the other night," she said in a quiet voice. "I stepped out of bounds, and I'm sorry."

Throttle shrugged and glanced down at his hands, which were worrying the seam of one of his gloves. "Forget about it."

Maybe he had misread her actions, anyway. Maybe she had only wanted to comfort him for bringing up so many bad memories--and maybe that comfort included a little intimate contact--but that didn't mean she wanted anything more out of him. That was something he didn't think he would be able to give any time soon. Maybe never again.

"It's no big deal," he added, as she leaned her cheek against the post, her eyes distant. "No harm done."

"Maybe not, but I could tell I made you uncomfortable, plus you've been avoiding me. I didn't mean to put you in a place you weren't ready to go. Like I said," she added, with a nervous laugh, "my mother thinks I'm too emotional."

"Nothing wrong with empathizing," he said quietly. "Just...keep the physical contact in check, okay? Especially the kind that shares more than I'm interested in sharing."

Knowing what he meant, Tamerin glanced down at her hands and nodded slightly. "Have you eaten yet tonight?" she asked, meeting his gaze again. "Let me make it up to you."

Throttle chuckled slightly. "You can't treat me--isn't everything free?" he teased.

Tamerin rolled her eyes. "No kidding. But I can cook, you know."

"Oh."

She glanced over her shoulder; Ashlin had already rounded up the little charges and was taking them home. "Come on," she urged, with a shy smile. "I promise I won't poison you."

"Well, that's reassuring," he commented dryly--though he smirked a second later. "Okay," he agreed...though he didn't plan to go back to sleeping on her couch. Not knowing what else to do, he had spent the last few nights at the guard station.

In her small apartment, Tamerin slipped off her boots and absently pushed the button that opened the drapes before leading him through the living room and into a kitchen and dining area. There was a glass table in the middle of the room and curved, polished counter tops along the walls. Her bare feet silent on the white tile of the floor, Tamerin darted around, pulling food items out of containers and warming a stove.

With a sudden smirk, she opened a cardboard box and pulled out a glass object. "I forgot to mention, someone took an off planet shopping trip the other day. I made sure they picked up several cases of these."

As she spoke, she passed him a bottle of root beer. "Oh, and somebody studied up on how to make various kinds of soft drinks ourselves," she added, as Throttle eagerly popped the cap off and started chugging, "something that the restaurateurs around here have been wanting to do for a while. Now seemed like as good a time as any."

A pleasant kind of silence fell after that, marked only by Tamerin's quiet movements and the occasional comment or remark. As the evening wore on and the smell of food cooking filled the room, Throttle felt a tension that had been inside him ever since he left Mars finally start to loosen a little. Enough for him to relax in his seat and chug a few more bottles of root beer. By the time Tamerin finished cooking and brought steaming dishes to the table, he was feeling a pleasant sugar buzz.

Light conversation continued as the two of them dined on an exotic-looking dish that Tamerin claimed was a 'weird' mixture of Eastern and Western cuisine that didn't really have a name. Throttle didn't really care; it tasted good, and by the time dinner was over his stomach was comfortably full, in a way that made him warm and a little sleepy.

As Tamerin pushed her chair back and started to clear the table, Throttle leaned over and placed his hand over hers, stilling her. "I'll handle that," he told her, taking the empty dishes from her hands. "You go relax."

She looked surprised for a moment, but then a quiet, grateful smile touched her lips. She headed off to the living room, and Throttle busied himself with putting the dirty dishes away. Although he really didn't have any idea how to actually run the machine he found, already partially laden with other dishes, so after adding the ones from tonight he closed the lid and went into the living room.

He found Tamerin sitting on a round stool near the windows--although perched was probably a better description. She had her feet tucked up next to her rear, her knees pulled up against her chest. She had her chin rested on them and she was gazing at a clear rectangular-shaped object in her hands. It was flat and transparent, so Throttle could see from his angle the image of an Imeeran that looked a lot like Jayce. He had the same shadow-black skin and garnet-red eyes, but his long hair was a soft gray. There was a warm, happy smile on his face.

Throttle didn't need to ask to know who he was, and he stayed quiet as he sat down on the edge of the couch. With a sigh, Tamerin set the picture down and rested her hands on her bare feet, her eyes distant. The sight of her sitting like that made her seem small--almost fragile. Not at all like the tall, powerful woman she usually appeared to be.

Everybody has different sides to them, he reminded himself. But it seemed like Tamerin wasn't concerned, as most people were, in showing part of herself and hiding the rest. She let the different facets of her personality show through whenever it suited her, regardless of who was around or where she was. Throttle didn't know very many who were that comfortable with themselves.

He assumed this was why her mother called her too emotional, even though he had yet to see her let her emotions get the better of her--aside from anger, that is. Or maybe it wasn't anger so much as it was passion, he mused. Someone full of passion had a habit of acting without thinking first--a bad trait for someone in the military. Thank goodness she wasn't, he reminded himself wryly.

He was also glad that they weren't touching right now--or that even if they were, Tamerin wouldn't be reading his mood anymore. He would be pretty embarrassed if she figured out that his thoughts kept centering around her. He didn't mean them to, but in his sleepy state, his mind kept wandering away from him. With a yawn, he pushed up from the couch. "I better go."

Tamerin lifted her head, looking almost startled that he'd spoken, like she'd forgotten he was there. "Huh? Oh--you can stay. I don't mind."

Throttle didn't plan to stick around for the night, but his already sluggish body responded to her words and grew even sleepier. Maybe just for a minute, he told himself, sitting down and relaxing into the plump cushions of the couch. "Just for a minute," he repeated, out loud this time. His voice came out quiet and sleepy, and his eyes drooped shut. Another minute or two wouldn't hurt.


	22. Chapter 22

_I'm here on the edge again_  
_I wish I could let it go_  
_I know that I'm only one step away_  
_From turning it around_

_Can you still see the heart of me?_  
_All my agony fades away_  
_When you hold me in your embrace_  
~All I Need;  Within Temptation

"If this keeps up, you're going to have an empty nest pretty soon," Modo noted as Ashlin started getting her charges ready for bed after their little ice cream adventure. He had hung around a lot the last few days, helping Ashlin keep an eye on Ako for anything unusual, but the doctors had surmised that he was fine, and that entering a death-like state when the body was ready to progress to the next stage of growth was normal for his species.

"No doubt, but that's fine," Ashlin said in response to his remark, though it looked like the idea saddened her. "There might be more ships crashing here someday, or more babies discovered on other worlds that nobody wants."

"Speakin' of which," Modo said, quickly shifting topic a little before this conversation turned unpleasant, "I was wondering...with you guys bein' able to teleport to any world you want, how come nobody ever took these guys back to their home worlds? Not that adopting them right here is a bad thing," he hastily added.

But Ashlin didn't look offended as she bent to tidy up a pile of toys. "We thought of that," she began, "but we can't go to a place not programmed into the computer. Back when the Imeerans first settled here, there were only a handful of world coordinates in the transport machine kept on the ship they crashed here with. The rest of the coordinates were gathered by the scouts over the years. The orphans here are from places we don't know about, and they were too small to tell us where they're from when they landed here. As for others who've crashed here or visited here," she went on with a smile, "we made sure to send them home again if we could. Or at least take them someplace where they'd be comfortable and happy. Not that anyone here would mind if someone decided to stay forever."

Modo didn't doubt it...although he had to wonder about something. "What about couples?" he asked. "With all the off world trips lately, it doesn't seem too far-fetched for someone to take a fancy to a being from another planet."

Ashlin straightened up again, brow furrowed like she was thinking. "Now that you mention it, it does sound pretty likely. But I've been told that no Imeeran has ever mated with a non-Imeeran in all these years."

Modo was a little surprised to hear it. They seemed like such an open, loving race, and--maybe because of all the different species they were made up from--they seemed easily attracted to other races. That was what the looks Tamerin kept giving Throttle seemed to suggest, anyway.

A chiming sound made him turn to the closed front door in surprise; Ashlin, looking equally surprised, hurried over and answered it. "I know it's late," a dark-skinned male said as she invited him in, "but this was the first chance I had to come here, and I couldn't wait."

Modo hastily stepped out of the way, while Ashlin escorted the male over to where the remaining orphans were sitting around and looking sweet...except for Michio, who folded his arms and scowled at their visitor. 'Go ahead...just try to adopt me,' his expression clearly read.

There wasn't a whole lot of choice other than him. Just Ako and the little three-eyed girl with the curls, who had a twin sister that was identical except for her pastel yellow skin. The two were discreetly gripping each other's hands, looking both excited and nervous. Excited because they might be adopted tonight...and nervous because they might not be adopted together. Ako sat quietly and wagged his bushy tail cutely, while Michio continued to glare.

Their visitor noticed and tried to be friendly. "Now, what can I do to make that frown turn upside-down?" he asked, with a kind smile.

Michio pretended to think it over. "You could leave," he suggested, with mock sweetness.

Ashlin grunted and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mich-ee- _o_ ," she growled under her breath, drawing the third syllable out threateningly.

Undaunted, the male asked, "Would you like a real home?"

Michio promptly turned around and flipped forward, planting his furry hands on the floor as he waggled his rear end. "No. Would you like to kiss my fuzzy butt?"

Ashlin looked ready to strangle him, while the twins muffled their shocked giggles behind their free hands. "He's terrible," one of them said.

"I see," said their tan visitor, giving up on the little prankster. He turned and crouched in front of the sweet green-eyed girls. "What about you two?" he asked. "Are you always together like this?"

"Always," the yellow-skinned one said firmly. Her pink-skinned twin hugged her for emphasis. "You've got room, right?" she asked in a whisper.

"It's hard to say," he mused, pretending to think it over for a minute. "I'm pretty sure I have room for at least two more your size...but we'll work it out."

The twins gave a happy squeal, while their new father scooped them up in each arm and turned to Ashlin, who had him sign a data pad before seeing him out. After he was gone, Ashlin turned to Michio with a stern frown. "I'm not even going to go into how awful that was," she scolded, hands on her hips. "No more playing--get into bed."

If he didn't know any better, Modo would swear that Michio actually looked pleased that he was in trouble. With a happy little sigh, he wiggled under the covers of his bed and closed his eyes. Huffing crankily, Ashlin reached up and dimmed the lights. Modo bent down and picked up Ako, who purred quietly and curled up in his arms. "Looks like it'll be your turn soon," he commented with a smile.

Ashlin paused and looked at the two of them for a moment. "Funny you should mention that," she said quietly. "I'm a little worried, honestly. He's so animal-like, I'm afraid he'll be seen more like a pet than a child. Plus we still know almost nothing about his species, so we don't know if this is how he's always going to look, or if he's going to have a few more appearance-altering naps before he's done growing up."

Ako continued to purr, unconcerned. Modo absently ran a hand over his soft ears. "It's a big uncertainty," Ashlin noted with a sigh. "I have a feeling anyone who might think about adopting him would end up deciding it would be better if he stayed where Deichan and I can keep an eye on him. But we don't know if it'll happen again, or if it does it might be years from now. He was with us for over three before, you know..."

She gestured vaguely. Frowning, Modo looked down at the content ball of fur, curled up so tight and safe against his chest. "He deserves a home like anyone else," he noted quietly, stroking his head again. "I'd never think of him as a pet; he's too smart."

Ako smiled, his fingers curling around Modo's hand as he snuggled further into the crook of his arm. And then it hit him. "I'll take him," he said softly.

Ashlin gave a start. "What?"

"I'll take him," he repeated, louder this time. "I know I haven't been around here long, but I love this little guy. And it wouldn't be that hard for you to check up on him," he hastily went on, as Ashlin gaped at him. "I mean, I could always bring him to the hospital here if I think anything's wrong, or just because, couldn't I?"

Ashlin opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she found her voice. "I suppose so," she said weakly. "They've never been passed out to someone from off planet before that I know of, but someone could give you one of the wristbands the military uses. You could contact us whenever you want and we could bring the two of you here. Or someone could visit you on Mars."

She sounded dazed. Modo smiled and lifted little Ako so they were eye-level; he made a happy sound and wrapped his paws around his neck, rubbing the top of his head against his chin. "My daddy," he said happily.

Modo laughed softly, his heart filling with affection. Sure, he had said that he didn't want to be a single parent, but...it wouldn't be that bad. He had his mama and his bros and, as he looked down at the happy bundle of fur he was holding, he knew it wasn't going to be any trouble. In fact, it just might fill a void in his life that he hadn't even realized was there.

Smiling, he glanced at Ashlin--and quickly frowned. She had her hand pressed to her mouth, and her dark eyes were full of tears. "It's okay," he said hastily. "You can visit him whenever you want, day or night."

Laughing softly, Ashlin gave her head a shake and waved her hand dismissively. "That's not why...aww, man, am I crying again?" she complained, laughing again as she wiped her eyes.

"Only a little," Modo told her with a smile. "I don't mind."

"Well, that settles it," she declared, smiling in return as she finished drying her eyes.

"Settles what?" he wondered curiously.

Giving her head a small shake, her dark eyes roamed him for a moment, like...

Like he was something special.

"You're the sweetest, nicest guy I've ever met."

The praise made him flush and glance away. After the bad start they had, even though they'd made up, he found it kind of amazing how much she seemed to admire him. He stood awkwardly for a moment, absently petting Ako. "So...anything I need to sign?"

"Just a form we use to keep track of who was adopted when and by whom," Ashlin said absently as she unfolded her cot. "We don't exactly run background checks around here since everybody knows everybody. But I trust you," she said, smiling warmly. "I know you'll be a great parent."

Modo flushed again. Ako continued to cling to him, looking like he was ready to fall asleep. "We can take care of it in the morning," Ashlin told him. "For now, you can sleep here. I borrowed a hammock for you."

The striped piece of cloth was attached to a sturdy frame, and he gladly reclined on it, with Ako happily curled up on his chest. As Ashlin turned out the last of the lights, Modo gazed off into the darkness as he thought about tomorrow. After finalizing the adoption, he would have to find Rimfire and Throttle to tell them the news. Then he should probably head home and tell his mama--she'd been hinting at grandkids almost constantly for the last two years, though this might not be quite what she had in mind. After that...

Well, it was kind of like starting a brand new life, wasn't it?

* * *

When Throttle opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find a blanket draped over him, tucked up over his shoulders and under his chin. He must have fallen asleep sitting up--and pretty soundly at that, he thought dryly. Either that or Tamerin had the stealthiest pair of hands in the galaxy. His specs were propped on the coffee table, and his boots lay underneath it.

He blinked his sleepy eyes for a moment, then pushed the blanket off as he stretched his arms. He felt calm and relaxed--more than he had in ages. It was so quiet in here, with only a hint of sound and movement coming from the ocean just outside the glass of the oval windows. There was something soothing about it.

Tamerin was still sitting on the stool in front of one of the windows. She had one foot propped on the stool and one resting on the floor, with her back resting against the wall and one hand pressed to the glass. Her white fingers looked blue beneath the faint glow coming from the outside lights. The glow softly lit her hair, her face.

For a moment Throttle thought she was asleep, but her eyes were open, quietly watching the schools of tiny fish that drifted past the window. She looked like she was deep in thought, and Throttle stood slowly, planning to slip out without disturbing her, but as soon as he got up she pulled her hand from the window and looked at him. Her eyes were tired.

"I'm heading out," he told her in a quiet voice.

She gave a nod and turned back to the window. Throttle turned and started to reach for his specs, but he accidentally bumped something off the table, something he didn't see in the shadows. It fell to the carpet with a soft thump; he hastily bent to retrieve it.

It was the picture of Tamerin's father.

"I really miss him sometimes," Tamerin said in a low, distant voice. "I try not to, but sometimes I think about what life would be like if he were still here."

Throttle carefully set the picture down before facing her again. "We all do that," he told her gently. "However we lose them, we all wonder what would be if our loved ones were still with us."

Tamerin rested her head back against the window, turning the crown of her head blue. "I mostly wonder because of my mom. She'd be a different person today if he was still with her. Only..."

She let out a sigh and pressed a hand over her eyes. "She's fought so hard since then," she murmured softly. "Her entire purpose in life now is to end this war. Every action she's taken since then has been a step toward that goal. And she's saved so many lives in the process. So it makes me wonder," she went on, her voice dropping even lower, "if it's right to want him back. Because if he were here, would that be like exchanging his life for all of theirs?"

She moved her hand and glanced at Throttle a second later, and he had to admit, he had a pretty blank expression on his face. Tamerin chuckled quietly. "Sorry, too deep for this hour?"

"Kind of."

She got to her feet with a quiet grunt. "Doesn't really matter, I suppose. What's done is done. And our future is ours to make."

Throttle gave an absent nod. Tamerin met his gaze, her eyes studying him for a moment. "What I don't want for my future," she said in a low voice, "is to end up like her. She got to where she is today by feeling nothing, but is that really better than feeling too much?"

Throttle wasn't sure what to say. "She must feel _something_ ," he ventured uncertainly, "even if she doesn't show it. Doesn't she love you and Jayce?"

Tamerin gave a bitter chuckle and shook her head. "If she does, she hasn't done anything to show it in almost thirty years. I don't want to do that. Even if it's too emotional for a world at war, I never want to hide my feelings, to leave them unspoken. I don't want the ones I love to not know how I feel--not when I don't know how much time I have with them."

Her eyes bore into his. "Do you think I should hide how I feel?"

Throttle gave his head a shake, his eyes staying locked with hers. "No. I don't."

Looking back later, Throttle wasn't sure who moved first. Maybe he reached for her, maybe she reached for him. It went by so fast it wasn't clear how it happened, but suddenly they were clinging to each other's hands. Tamerin's thumbs brushed over his fingers--a soft, innocent gesture. Except it wasn't.

The next thing he knew they were grappling for each other, pulling each other into an embrace that was closer and tighter than he had been to another being in a long, long time. Hands gripped at clothing, mouths and tongues meshed together. All words and coherent thought melted away, replaced by the most basic, primal--carnal--of desires. With a heat inside him that Throttle didn't think he could feel anymore, he became oblivious of everything but the woman locked in his arms. He vaguely noticed them stumbling, her backward and him forward, until they tripped and tumbled--falling onto the soft, waiting mattress of a bed.

Things happened pretty quickly after that--and finished quicker than Throttle would have liked. But instead of letting the night come to an end, Tamerin clung to him, refusing to let go as she stroked and kissed him until he was ready--aching--for more. 

That night was like no other night in his life. Every last bit of clothing was shed instead of only the minimum pieces required. He was allowed to roll freely around the mattress, pulling her with him, instead of having to stay still on his back because the person he was coupling with needed to make a quick getaway afterward. 

There were no quick getaways that night. Tamerin took her time getting to know him from head to toe, kissing and touching every last part of him. Throttle savored exploring her body in return, reveling in the softness of her skin, the heady scent of her excitement. It was an experience that was wonderful in ways he couldn't even begin to describe.

He lost count of how many times they broke apart, trembling and panting, only to grapple for each other again moments later. It was a kind of connection--an aching need to share and to be shared--that he had never felt before. It was raw, uninhibited passion and he never wanted it to end.

But end it did, and when they separated for the final time he lay breathless beside her, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as tears dampened his face. His body felt heavy and sated in a way it never had before, and a wonderful sense of peace settled over him as he closed his eyes and slept.


	23. Chapter 23

"You awake, Daddy?"

"Hmn?"

Modo cracked his eye open to find himself nose to nose with Ako, who was blinking at him expectantly. Chuckling, he lifted the little creature in his hands and held him above his head, studying him intently. The decision to adopt had come suddenly, but...he knew he'd made the right one. After what they'd been through together he just couldn't let the little guy go. Challenging or not, he wanted to take care of him until he was fully grown, however long it might take.

Across the room, Ashlin was running a comb through her thick brown hair. She'd changed from last night and was now wearing a pair of snug black pants under calf-length gray boots, with her usual compartment-laden belt. She wore a pink shirt with sleeves so long they covered part of her hands, though it wasn't as snug as the green shirt. She had a loose-fitting purple tunic on over it.

"You look nice," Modo commented as he sat up.

Ashlin flushed and put her comb away. "Do not," she mumbled.

"Do so," Modo teased, cupping his new son in one hand as he got off the hammock. "Doesn't she look pretty, Ako?"

"Ashie prettiest ever," Ako declared frankly.

Ashlin flushed harder, and Modo felt his own ears warm at the direction this conversation had taken...but he couldn't disagree.

The console in the wall suddenly beeped, and Ashlin hurried to the keypad, looking relieved for a distraction. She studied the screen for a moment. "The scouts need supplies," she reported.

"And they're asking you to bring them?" Modo wondered in surprise.

"Anyone who's up to it," she said with a smile. "It's okay, I do it all the time. We meet up at a spot near the lift. And no one's seen any sign of danger in a few days. It'll be fine."

Even so, Modo couldn't help frowning at the idea. Ashlin's smile turned shy. "Want to come with?"

"And how."

They left Ako and Michio in the care of one of the hospital nurses, who was oddly vague when Modo asked her where Deichan-ma'am was, claiming that she was still 'indisposed.' After grabbing the backpacks loaded with supplies, they headed to the guard station, where they tugged on their protective suits and helmets. This time he made sure to switch on the scanner before he had his helmet in place; Ashlin did the same.

When the lift reached the surface he braced himself, but as the harsh atmosphere of Malteria hit him, Modo found himself thinking that even if he came up here a thousand times, he would never get used to the brutal winds, the feelings of dizziness...that weird chewing sensation. Yet Ashlin started walking ahead of him calmly, her steps even and sure. He hurried to catch up.

"How far are they?" he wondered.

"Not far," she reported, pointing to a spot in the distance. "Just over that ridge."

Modo squinted at the darkness, trying to get a handle on the signals his readout was giving. He saw traces of footprints in the sand, but no sign of any recent activity. Assuming that the scouts were in a spot too low for him to get a trace of heat readings, he fell in step with Ashlin's shorter, clipped gate, though his footing still fumbled from time to time.

Ashlin noticed and hid a smile in her helmet...but not well enough that he didn't notice. "Come on, big guy," she said, her voice teasing. "It's not much farther."

As she spoke she held out her hand. Smirking in spite of himself, Modo reached out and took it--and then he heard a low, deep growl. The hairs on his arm and the back of his neck stood on end. "Um..."

He did a quick scan of the area but didn't see anything. Ashlin had tensed a little, but she kept calm as she gave his hand a tug. "Let's...hurry," she said, sounding uncertain.

Modo was all for getting this little excursion over with quickly, and he kept up with her quick stride as they started up the ridge. It took several minutes to reach the top, but the ground was uneven and crumbling and they slipped and skidded quickly down the other side. When they reached the bottom, Modo looked around with a frown. "Where are they?"

All he could see was more rocky, craggy ground, just like everywhere else. There was no sign of life, though there were traces of heat glowing here and there. Scattered tracks and patches on the ground and rocks blazed like they had been touched by fire...and there were traces of blackened soil. Like scorch marks.

Modo felt his fingers tighten around Ashlin's as his body grew uncomfortably tense. "I think we better go back," he said, as quietly as he could without being drowned out by the rush of the wind.

Ashlin looked a little fearful as she edged closer to him. "I think you're right," she said, her voice small.

They both took a step back, meaning to head back up the ridge, but the sandy ground slid noisily beneath their feet. Rocks tumbled down with a clatter; the ridge was a lot flatter on this side, the incline extremely steep, making going back up the same way almost impossible without climbing gear or something. He quickly glanced around and saw a path that cut to the left, edging between the ridge and a brownish-black mound of boulder. Ashlin had figured out that they were better off taking another route too and was already taking a step toward the narrow path. Still clinging to her hand and keeping his steps swift and quiet, Modo moved along beside her--and then the boulder moved.

Ashlin drew back with a sharp gasp. Modo watched, stunned, as the 'boulder' uncurled itself from around the ridge and rose up into the sky. He had a vague flash of memory of the two-story lizard-creature he had seen in the distance the other day; he hadn't been particularly interested in getting to know one up close.

As a pair of milky eyes the size of dinner plates blinked at him above rows of long, jagged teeth, Modo heard himself ask, "Ever see _Jurassic Park_?"

"No," Ashlin said shakily, sounding like she wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"They at least had getaway vehicles."

The creature growled in a way that reverberated through his chest. With a gulp of air, Modo spun and starting running, practically dragging Ashlin behind him as his feet pounded the dirt. Behind them--make that above them--came an angry roar, followed by footsteps that shook the ground. Modo had an unpleasant feeling that their short legs weren't going to get them very far against a giant lizard's enormous stride.

He was debating whether or not they should start swerving crazily or stand their ground and start firing--and then Ashlin pulled to a halt that nearly jerked him backwards. "No!"

For a second he didn't understand why she was yelling--and then he saw something appear in the path in front of them. Literally appear, like it was materializing up from the ground, liquid pooling up and taking form. He vaguely saw the shape of blue arms and a head before the liquidy mass pulled down into a blueish-black ball. With a slapping, slurping kind of sound, it half-bounced, half-slithered away from them.

It was such a strange sight that for an instant he nearly forgot they were still being chased--and then a huff of hot air above his head reminded him. Gritting his teeth, he did the only thing he could think of; he drew the hand that was still clinging to Ashlin's forward in a wide arc, all but throwing her bodily across the sand. He vaguely noticed her rolling along the ground--to safety, he hoped--as he braced himself and, acting entirely on instinct, threw his arms upward.

His fingers hooked around looming jaws, slipping between fat, pointed teeth that were longer than his ears. The creature let out a low, guttural growl in its throat, making his arms vibrate; grunting, he tried to push, to muscle that enormous, gaping mouth away from him, but with one firm thrust of its snout, the creature had him flat on his back in the sand.

Letting out another growl--an angry one--the creature slapped its long, slimy tongue at him as it tried to wedge its jaws open wider, straining violently against the fingers gripping it. Modo's mind raced; if he could push away hard enough he might be able to roll to safety, or pull out his arm cannon and--

With a cold chill he realized that the latter option was impossible. There was no way he could start firing without blasting a hole in the arm of his suit. And it had never occurred to him to take some other kind of weapon along. No...he was stuck with his own two hands, and if the strain in his arms were any indication, they might not be enough this time.

This thought had barely entered his mind when Ashlin suddenly leaned over him. Before he fully registered what she was doing, she had jabbed her blaster into the creature's open mouth and fired. The beast recoiled and reared back with an enraged roar.

Modo didn't waste a second. He leaped to his feet, hooked his arm around Ashlin's waist and tossed her over his shoulder as he took off running again. He didn't know the landscape anywhere well enough to know where he was headed; he just hoped it was somewhere safe. Ashlin twisted in his grasp and fired over his head a few more times.

Then, panting, she placed a hand on his arm. "Is it done chasing us?" he asked, his own breath short.

"For now."

His gate slowed, but not by much. Not until he slid down a small slope in the ground--then he came stumbling to a halt. His breath hitched a little. Ashlin twisted around again, trying to see what he was looking at. "What's wrong?"

A moment later she gasped quietly. Lying on the ground a few feet in front of them, amid more scorched sand, were the scouts. He couldn't tell from here how badly they were injured, but none of them were moving. "We have to help them," Ashlin said, her voice desperate and pleading.

Nodding, Modo set her down gently. But just as he was taking a step closer, she threw a hand out and grabbed his arm. "Wait," she whispered.

At first he didn't see what was wrong. But then he spotted the shapeless mass slinking across the ground--the same blueish-black thing from before. It stopped moving and slowly drew up and took on a more solid form, until it had limbs, a torso and was walking on two legs. Its head was wedge-shaped, its slanted eyes a dull yellow. It was heading toward the scouts, but along the way it paused and looked at them. And then turned away and continued on, like they were unimportant.

Modo watched, tensed and ready to spring into action if he had to, as the blue-black creature approached one of the prone bodies. It turned the male figure over with its foot; his chest heaved, but he remained unconscious. The creature standing over him raised one of its hands ominously. Modo didn't see a weapon, but every part of him knew that the shape-shifter was about to deliver the final blow.

Before he could react, Ashlin darted forward. "Don't," she cried.

Hissing, the creature whirled to face her; she raised her blaster and fired. The shape-shifter jerked back with a shriek that was just as bad--worse--than the one that had impersonated Madson made when Tamerin blasted it. But it recovered quickly and rolled across the ground in that bouncing, oozing way before solidifying again and firing back.

A beam of laser that seared white cut through the air; Modo grabbed Ashlin's shoulder and shoved her clear before diving out of the way. By the time he had hauled himself to his feet again, the creature had vanished.

Behind him, Ashlin let out a moan. "I dropped my blaster."

"Forget it," he told her quickly as he hurried toward her, fully prepared to toss her over his shoulder and take off running again. "Let's just get out of here already. We can't carry all of them back ourselves--we need reinforcements."

Which way was the lift? He had no idea. Acting like she hadn't heard him, Ashlin was patting the sand. "It just disappeared," she said, sounding confused. "It's like the sand sucked it up."

"So get a new one back in the city," he said, exasperated. He reached out, planning to grab hold of that little waist of hers--and then she let out a scream.

Modo jerked back in surprise, his eye darting around for a new threat--or one of the old ones back for more--but there was nothing there. Nothing but the unconscious bodies still lying on the ground. At least, he sure hoped they were only unconscious.

Frowning in puzzlement, he looked back down at Ashlin--and felt his heart drop into his boots.

Ashlin was gone. And directly in front of his feet was shifting, sinking sand--falling more and more rapidly. Surrounding rocks and debris fell loose and tumbled down out of sight, like it was swallowed up by a hole. A hole that just kept getting bigger, Modo realized with dawning horror.

He hastily drew back--and then he heard a low hiss behind him. Not in the mood for any more problems, he whirled with his teeth bared, ready to tear apart whatever was stupid enough to pester him right now--and then he was being blinded by white light.

White-hot pain ripped through his shoulder. Throwing a hand in front of his face, he felt himself stumble back. Stumble back into empty space. As he fell freely amid clouds of sand and clusters of rock, he opened his eye and looked up at the opening of the hole above him. A liquidy blue-black shape drew up as if watching him fall...and that was the last thing he saw before he hit bottom and the world went black.

* * *

Throttle awoke to an unfamiliar sensation. He was lying in bed, but he wasn't alone. A pair of warm arms were wrapped tightly around him, and slow, steady breath ruffled the fur at his collarbone as someone slept with their head on his shoulder. For a moment he thought he was dreaming, but then everything from last night came rushing back to him. Last night was almost...

No. It _was_ the best sex he ever had in his life.

And this, he thought as he tightened his arms around Tamerin and drew her closer, was nice. It was nice to wake up in someone's arms, to enjoy this kind of closeness. Granted, it was a closeness that he had been trying to avoid...though at the moment he couldn't really remember why. Even if what was between them was only physical, he was all right with that. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was ready to give more than that right now.

Tamerin suddenly stirred, her abalone blue eyes opening as she lifted her head. Her face lighting with a smile, she cupped his face in her hand and kissed him for a moment before returning her head to his shoulder. Her arms tightened around him, her legs shifting to lock around his. Like he was something too important--too precious--to let go of.

"So," he said, as he casually drifted his fingertips up and down the smoothness of her back, "what now?"

Tamerin let out a quiet murmur of contentment and snuggled her head under his chin. "More basking," she said lazily.

"In the afterglow?"

She chuckled. "In you."

She lifted her head again and reached up to run her fingers through his brief shock of hair, smoothing her hand over the back of his head before cupping his face again. Her thumb and fingertips trailed over his face, touching his nose, his mouth.

There was something different in her expression as she looked at him that morning. Even if she wasn't afraid of showing her emotions, she still kept a guard up, a careful wall of control as she dealt with the struggles of the tense existence the people here had to maintain. That guard was gone now, and her face was open and shining, her eyes glowing with something...

Something that scared him a little.

Tamerin's expression didn't change, so he figured that even though they were wrapped so tightly around each other, she wasn't tapping into his emotions right now. The thought warmed something inside him, grateful that she was someone who kept her word. Smiling warmly, Tamerin continued to stroke his face, her eyes drinking him in.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're unbelievably gorgeous?"

"Um...not in so many words, no."

Giggling, she leaned up to kiss him again. "Well, you are. You're the most gorgeous, sexy creature I've ever met," she declared, punctuating her words with noisy kisses. "And if I had my way, I'd lie here in bed with you forever."

A second later there was a loud beeping from her nightstand. Groaning, she thumped her head against his shoulder. "Damn it."

Throttle snickered as she unwound herself from him and rolled over to snatch up her wrist com. "Yes?" she asked, her tone polite despite the scowl on her face.

"Major, we've got a problem topside," came a male voice Throttle didn't recognize.

Wait. _What_ did he just call her?

Grunting, Tamerin sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Can you manage without me?"

"Would I be contacting you if we could?"

"Point taken. I'll be there in a minute."

Throttle sat up as she jumped out of bed and started yanking on her clothes. "What's going on here?" he asked in a low, quiet voice.

"Not sure," she said distractedly. "Probably another ambush on the scouts. Typical."

"Tam."

She paused and looked at him. In the same low voice he said, "Please tell me that 'major' is just a weird term of endearment."

Now she gave him a funny look. "Um, no. It's my rank. I thought you knew."

Growling in frustration, Throttle heaved his legs to the floor and starting tugging on his jeans. "No," he snapped, "I didn't have a clue. If I did, you think I'd be here?"

Tamerin stopped getting dressed and stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Don't act surprised--you know damn well that I've had my fill of military women. I'm not going through that again."

Her eyes turned dark as she stared at him, face stony. "Not going through _what_ again?" she asked quietly.

"What else? Dealing with someone who's always going to have something else going on in her life that's more important than what's between the two of us," he said, teeth gritted as he fastened his pants. "Not to mention a lack of trust, and--"

"You really think I'd do that?" she asked sharply, cutting him off. "Is that what you think I'm like? Throttle, things are different here than they are on most worlds-- _everyone_ who lives in this colony is considered military."

Throttle paused to grimace at the thought. "Everyone?" he repeated, incredulous.

"Everyone regardless of age, gender, size or strength--it doesn't matter. Everyone's skills and abilities are tested at a young age and then they're given a position that suits them. Granted, it's a matter of choice if someone actually wants to become an armed soldier, but everyone here has a position and skill that can be called on when needed, for the good of everyone. In case you've forgotten," she went on coolly, "we were beyond isolated when the original twenty crashed here. They did what they had to do to survive, and all we've done is continue what they started. It's the only reason we've lasted as long as we have."

"What about people like Ashlin?" he wanted to know.

"Ashlin may be small," she retorted, "but she's a fast thinker and a skilled technician. And like I said, everyone's best abilities are evaluated, but it's left up to them how they choose to use them. No one is forced to do anything around here, but everyone follows the chain of command we developed anyway because it works. Or maybe we're just following the fighter instincts that were programmed into us--I don't know. Does it even matter?"

"It does to me," Throttle said blackly as he grabbed the rest of his things without bothering to put them on. "I had my fill of that kind of thing back on Mars--I came here to get away from it. If it's just more of the same, then I'm out of here."

Tamerin froze. The look on her face was so strange--so hurt--that it made him pause. "You wouldn't," she whispered.

"Wouldn't what? Leave? I'm already gone."

He spoke harshly, but he didn't put the force he thought he would behind his words. He couldn't; the look Tamerin was giving him made the anger inside him ebb, like he was being filled with something cold. She looked so--broken. Like the life had just been sucked out of her. Her eyes were bright, like she was ready to start crying, and her hand shook a little as she pressed it to her mouth.

Throttle didn't get it. _He_ was the one who was hurt here. _He_ was the one who had his heart stomped on by the one who was supposed to love him the most--right after she stabbed him in the back. Tamerin was lucky that they didn't spend more time together than they had--she wouldn't have to know what that was like.

And yet she was staring at him like he had just torn her heart to shreds.

For a moment he thought she was going to break down, but then she lowered her head and shut her eyes, her fists balling at her sides. He could almost visibly see the walls shooting up around her, the emotions raging inside her being pushed down. Buried.

When she opened her eyes again they were dry, but the hurt in them was so raw, it couldn't be hidden. "Okay," she whispered, the faintest of quavers in her voice. "If that's what you want. I won't force you to stay."

Another new experience for him. She didn't raise her voice, didn't argue with him, didn't try to make him see her point of view. It struck him as strange--he didn't think she was the type to let anything go without a fight--but he set his jaw and stalked out of the apartment. He looked back once, just as the front door was closing. Through it he caught a brief glimpse of Tamerin's bedroom through its open doorway--and of Tamerin falling to her knees with her face in her hands.


	24. Chapter 24

Modo let out a quiet groan as his senses came back to him. His aching body felt like it was buried under a ton of rubble--which was because, he realized with a growing sense of dread, he _was_ buried under a ton of rubble.

Grunting, he tried to move, to get up, but the only part of him that wasn't pinned down was his left arm. If he could free his right, he could blast his way out of here--if he could fire without blasting a hole in his sleeve, he reminded himself bitterly.

As soon as this thought entered his mind he remembered something, and an icy trickle of fear passed through him as he fumbled his free hand up to his left shoulder, feeling where he had been shot just before blacking out. He couldn't see it--he could barely see anything, he was buried so deep under rock and sand--but his fingertips found the frayed ends of scorched fabric, and he felt a sting as he touched torn flesh.

A feeling of panic seized him; if there was a hole in his suit, how long would it be before the toxic air did him in? How long did Tamerin say it took for skin to melt off? Just a few minutes? The exposed area sure burned like it was trying to melt off. Grunting, he balled his fist vainly around the hole, trying to grip it shut with his fingers as he struggled against the weight on him. Spots danced before his eye; he felt weak. Drained. Normally he could have punched his way out of something like this by now, but...he didn't have it in him.

Taking a breath to calm himself, he tried calling out. "Ashlin? Are you there, darlin'? Are you hurt?"

At first she didn't answer, making him worried she was unconscious--or worse--but then he heard movement somewhere in front of him. "I'm okay," came Ashlin's voice, distant and weak. "I'm pinned down, though. I can't really move--my tail is caught."

Modo felt another cold chill. "It's not torn out of the suit, is it?"

It felt a little weird, but to keep their precious little tails safe from the toxins, they tucked them down into a pant leg of the suit. He heard a scrape of movement again. "No," she said, grunting. "But the fabric is all stretched out and a bunch of junk is lying on my tail--it's gone completely numb. I'm not sure what this place is or what it used to be used for, but there's broken computers and other equipment lying around. Everything that's lying on me is metal."

She grunted again. "It's too heavy," she groaned. "I can't move it. Dang it, it feels like my tail is going to fall off."

"Don't move, then," Modo said weakly. "Someone'll find us."

Ashlin snorted. "Yeah, but friend or foe?" she asked bitterly. "We can't stay here."

Knowing she was probably right, Modo tried to move his right arm again--and realized with horror that he couldn't. It had been dislodged from the socket and was crushed in the rubble--useless. He tried vainly to push one of the rocks away with his other hand, but his fingertips only brushed it as he stretched as far as he could. Pain shot through his shoulder and the side of his neck; he let his arm drop with an exhale of breath. "I don't think I can get us out of here," he mumbled dully. "That thing shot me before we fell down here."

Ashlin let out a gasp. "The blast didn't burn through your suit, did it?" she asked fearfully.

Modo hesitated to answer, but his silence did it for him. "Are you bleeding?" she demanded. "How bad is it?"

Grimacing, he felt his wound again. "It's dry," he said after a moment. "Sore, but dry."

Ashlin let out her breath, like she'd been holding it. "Maybe it's not so bad, then," she said. "The heat from the blast should have cauterized the wound. That should slow the toxins from getting into your bloodstream."

"But they'll get in there eventually," Modo added quietly.

Silence fell after that, marked only by small sounds of movement from Ashlin. She suddenly let out a groan of frustration. "I just can't get loose," she almost wailed. "This crap is so heavy I'll never pull my tail free."

Modo chuckled in spite of himself. "Language, little lady," he scolded.

Ashlin let out a strange sound--like she was crying but trying hard not to. "It's not funny," she snapped. "Don't you get that in a few minutes you could be dead?"

Modo was quiet as he tightened his fist around the hole in his suit again. The burning was growing worse, and there was a funny taste in his mouth. "Yeah," he said softly. "I kinda figured that out."

Ashlin let out a sob. "Don't cry," Modo told her gently. "You'll be all right. I'm sure you'll be all right."

"I'm not worried about _me_ , you big dolt," she cried. She grunted loudly, like she was straining. "I could get us both out of here if I could just get to my communicator--it fell off when I was knocked out and now I can't reach it."

"Well, don't go rippin' a hole in your suit trying to get it," Modo advised.

Silence fell again, until Modo heard a clicking sound. "Are you still awake?" Ashlin suddenly asked sharply.

"Barely."

"Well, don't go to sleep," she ordered, sniffling.

"Don't think I can help it," he mumbled.

He definitely didn't feel right. His lungs felt strange--like they were being squeezed--and the burning in his shoulder felt like it was going clear down to the bone. He had a crazy image of that gnawing sensation again, of tiny creatures with thousands of teeth all feasting on his skin, chewing until...

The squeal of a blaster firing made him jerk his head up in surprise; his helmet thumped against the boulder over his head. "What did you do?" he asked weakly.

On the other side of his prison he heard a scrabbling sound. Then he heard Ashlin speaking frantically--telling someone back at the base where they were and what had happened; they promised to send help out immediately. There a was beep as she cut the communication before letting out a shaky breath. Modo reached forward and tried to push aside the rock that blocked her from his view, but it was too far away.

On the other side he heard scraping, followed by Ashlin grunting with effort. The rock rolled away and light flooded his prison, making him squint. Panting, Ashlin dropped the metal rod she'd levered the rock out of the way with and dropped to her belly, stretching out both her arms until her hands closed around his. Sighing in relief, she let her head drop to the sand with a thump. Through her visor he could see sweat streaming down her face.

His vision blurred and he felt himself edging near unconsciousness again. This can't have helped his fracture, he thought distantly. "What did you do?" he asked again.

Still panting, Ashlin tightened her grip on his hand and looked up to smile weakly at him. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "You're more important."

Her eyes closed and her head thumped on the ground again. And then, through his hazy vision, Modo found himself gazing over her head and at the small of her back. Something was missing. Something that should have been vaguely visible through the stretchy fabric of her suit...but instead there was only a tear and a small scorch mark.

His eye widened in shock. "Oh, Mama."

* * *

The whole time he was hurrying across the city to the guard station, Throttle listened for the sound of Tamerin's footsteps as she chased after him. But nothing happened--nothing except a handful of odd stares some of the locals stopped to give him as he rushed by. He heard them whisper rapidly among themselves after he'd passed, but not a hint of anyone running up behind him. It's better this way, he reminded himself. You don't _want_ her to stop you.

He kept telling himself this...and yet he felt disappointed--hurt--that she'd let him go so easily. It said she didn't care enough to bother, but the sight of her collapsing in her bedroom--and that searing pain in her eyes--told him something else. And then an old saying, one he had long forgotten, crept into his mind: if you love someone, you set them free...

Throttle gave his head a shake, pushing the idea that was trying form out of his mind. The best thing he could do now was leave, alone. Modo and Rimfire could catch up later. When he entered the transport room, Trent was at the computer. "It's a good thing you came here first," he commented dryly. "The other places are hopping right now. We will be too in a minute, so I'll send you home before that."

"How did you know I'm leaving?" Throttle wondered, though he was too worn out to feel surprised.

"Major Tamerin contacted me before heading up with her squad. She said you'd be here soon and to set coordinates for Mars."

She was not only letting him go, she'd paved the way for him? Throttle felt something funny stir inside him--something he couldn't even name. He was trying to keep his head clear but that image of Tamerin as he walked out wouldn't get out of his mind. "I'm ready," he said absently.

"Don't forget to grab a suit," Trent reminded him.

Mechanically, Throttle headed to the nearby locker and reached for his helmet--just as heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor behind him. A second later he heard the sharp whine of a laser blaster charging up, followed by the cold pressure of a barrel being pressed to the back of his head. "Drop it," Jayce's voice ordered harshly into his ear.

"It's a helmet," Throttle said dryly, but he let go.

At the console, Trent was getting to his feet, looking stunned. "Captain? What the heck are you doing?"

"It's none of your business," Jayce responded coolly. "Just relax and go back to work."

As he spoke, he clamped a hand on Throttle's shoulder, steering him away from the locker and shoving him into the corridor. "Uh," Trent called after them, "the Major left strict instructions that he be allowed to leave Malteria immediately."

"Did she give a direct order?"

"Not exactly, but--"

"Then forget about it," Jayce snapped. "If she asks, tell her I interfered. I'll deal with the consequences myself."

The shadowy male shoved again, making Throttle stumble. "Keep moving," he growled, digging the barrel of the blaster into the back of his neck.

"Do I at least get to ask what the hell the problem is?" Throttle asked dryly.

"You know damn well what you did. Or maybe you don't--you're an other worlder, so I don't put it past you to actually be that stupid."

Throttle was getting extremely impatient with this, and he was tempted to fight his way out of it...but Jayce was clearly angry to the point where he wouldn't hesitate to shoot if he tried something, and Throttle wasn't sure he would be able to dodge. It was too narrow here...and 'Captain' Jayce no doubt had excellent aim.

Where were his bros when he needed them?

"If I'm so stupid, how about you spell it out for me?" Throttle asked, as Jayce pushed him down the corridor that led to the infirmary.

"You really need me to? Fine. You slept with Tamerin."

Throttle made a sputtering sound. "She _told_?"

"Of course not," the Captain snapped. "And I know she never would have, but it wasn't hard to figure out, what with your scent all over her. Sexual activity isn't something you can hide around here, you know."

Jayce pulled him to a halt outside the infirmary door and spun him around, keeping the blaster level with his head as they faced each other. "And just so you know, taking a female around here and then bolting is a crime punishable by death."

Throttle was so shocked he started to laugh. "Are you _kidding_ me? I've got news for you--it happens all the time, and not just because someone is being an asshole. Sometimes a relationship doesn't work out. Sometimes it's over before it's even begun. Do you call that into account?"

"It doesn't matter," Jayce told him coldly. "Not around here. We don't live like other races, in case you haven't figured that out. And not because we _want_ to, but because we _have_ to. A lot of other races look at our lifestyle and envy it, but you know what? In many ways we're enslaved by our own genetics. There are some things we do because we don't have any other choice."

"So, you don't have any choice but to execute someone because they didn't work out as a couple?" Throttle wondered caustically.

Jayce scoffed at him. "No--I'm ready to execute you because you destroyed my sister's chance for a normal life. But I know just explaining it to you won't convince you, so I'm going to give you an example of how our biology works."

As he spoke, he reached over with his free hand and pressed a sequence of buttons on the keypad next to the closed doors. It opened with a click a second later; Jayce shoved him inside. The infirmary was empty except for Deichan, who was sitting at a computer console near the back. She swiveled her seat and gaped as they came in, looking stunned--and Throttle got the distinct feeling that it wasn't because Jayce was leading him around at gunpoint.

"Jayce," she cried, her pink cheeks turning crimson. "What are you doing in here? You know I'm--"

She let out a gasp of surprise as Jayce grabbed Throttle's shoulder again and shoved him forward, bending him at the waist so he and Deichan were eye-level. Throttle caught his breath as a strong odor--Mother of Mars, what _was_ that?--flooded his nostrils.

Deichan looked beyond horrified. "Jayce, _please_..."

"I'm sorry, Dee," he said quietly, "but I need to do something drastic to make this dickhead understand what he's done. Just let him get a whiff, okay? Then we're out of here."

The pretty doctor looked so embarrassed she almost started crying. Pressing a hand over her eyes and turning her face away, she held still--almost. A tremor rippled through her as she visibly held back her urge to bolt--an urge Throttle shared a hundred-fold.

Throttle couldn't believe what he was smelling. It was unreal. It was like someone had taken the most potent, most delicious scent of female sex, multiplied it by a thousand and perfumed the entire room with it. But the focal point was the tiny doctor--it smelled like it was flooding out of her very pores. It made Throttle's blood warm until it burned, made his head swim and his knees weak, and made his pants feel painfully tight.

He let out an odd sort of sound as Jayce suddenly jerked him back, pulling him out of the room. He wanted to weep with relief--while at the same time he ached to go back, to let that scent drown him as he gave in to the sheer power of it.

When the door closed again, he slumped against it. Beside him, Jayce let out a gasp of air, like he had been holding his breath the entire time. "You get it now?" he asked weakly, clearly as affected as he was.

"No," Throttle mumbled, his vision hazy and pink. "I'm beyond confused."

And beyond turned on. He _ached_ , and he continued to hide against the door in embarrassment. "Is that normal?" he asked dazedly.

Because he had gotten a good whiff of Tamerin last night, and even when she was at the height of her excitement, it was nothing compared to _that_.

"It's completely normal," Jayce began, the rage suddenly gone from his voice. "You see, our illustrious creators wanted us to breed excessively, so they designed our females to smell like _that_ every time they have their fertility cycle, which thankfully only happens every four months. And when it does, it's supposed to send out a signal as subtle as blazing lights and screeching horns to us males to come breed with her. And boy," he sighed, "is it _ever_ hard to resist.

"Which is why females isolate themselves during this time," he went on, "since it still isn't safe for us to have children. In particular un-mated, fertile females need to stay away from un-mated males."

"Does it make a difference if the male has a mate?" Throttle wondered dryly.

"Absolutely. We're not sure if we're supposed to be the way we are--given our creators' plans for us, we tend to doubt it--but once we mate, we become bonded to each other. No matter who or what else is around us, we only respond to the sight, sound, and smell of our mates. And when a mated female is fertile, it only quietly sends out signals to her mate. Other mated males and most un-mated males won't even notice."

Throttle thought about this for a moment. "So, life is only this rough if you're single," he joked weakly.

"Pretty much. It's harder on the females; we males don't have to deal with this if we don't bump into one when she's fertile, but as I understand it, she has to spend the entire time feeling as aroused as you and I just were."

Still are, Throttle added silently. Though it was starting to fade now, and his mind was clearing enough to start processing what he had just learned. "I guess that makes it easy but also a nightmare to keep up this abstaining from procreation," he mused. "It's obvious when someone is fertile, but..."

"It's hard for mated couples to avoid each other during that time," Jayce finished. "Yeah, it's rough, but we've managed to work around it these past thirty years. The last child was born right before the war started, and after that, well...no one was really 'in the mood,' so making the choice not to breed was easy at the time."

Throttle imagined it was unpleasant for the loving couples who had just reunited. At least they had such a big window to work with. He felt more relaxed now, enough for him to turn around as something occurred to him. "When you say that you become bonded, what exactly--"

"I'm sure you heard this already," Jayce said, cutting him off, "but I'll tell you again anyway. We only mate one way: for love, and for life. Being able to read emotions and intentions makes it easier to choose than for other races, but we still have to be extremely careful about who we end up with. Because the bond that forms once mating actually takes place? It's unbreakable. Our bodies become connected in ways others only dream of. The longer we're together, the stronger that bond becomes. We start sensing each other without touching--even when we're far apart. The more time together and the more contact a couple has, the more powerful that bond becomes."

Something was starting to grow in the back of Throttle's mind as he listened to all this. Something that was hinting at the possibility that he had just made a huge mistake.

"Remember how I said that once they mate, couples only respond physically to each other?" Jayce went on. He had lowered the blaster and had his arms folded now, and Throttle suddenly had the feeling he never really intended to shoot him. He had just wanted to make damn sure that he listened. "I don't mean that lightly--they _can't_ respond to anyone else. They feel love and attraction for their mates and no one else. Though I'm sure," he added, his eyes turning cold, "certain other worlders would think nothing of forcing themselves on someone here anyway. That's why our laws against sexual crimes are in place--and why we take them so seriously. Because if, say, some lecherous other worlder male got his hands on one of our females, even if she absolutely despised him and demanded he be executed afterward, her body would still be bonded to his and unable to respond to one of our males."

Throttle made a face; that was terrible. "But a connection that brief doesn't have as deep an impact as a long-term relationship, does it?"

"Not on the mental level, no. But on the physical? One time is all it takes. Although we _do_ have methods reserved for people who have lost their mate, a frequent occurrence thanks to this war. It's a medical injection that's supposed to help neutralize the effects a mate's cells has on someone's body. Ease them out of the system quicker."

"And does it work?"

"I have no idea. No one has ever used it in all these years. Most say they'd be willing to, but everyone who has actually lost their mate has refused. Their memories and feelings, as painful as they are, are all they have left. They always end up clinging to them as they struggle to move on. Some can't, you know," he said grimly. "Aside from my mother, there are very few halves of what used to be a whole out there. Most have either died in combat themselves, or just couldn't handle life alone. It's common for the shock of losing a mate to send someone into a sleep they never wake up from."

With a shaky sigh, Throttle ran a hand over his forehead as he leaned back against the door. "Knowing that, I would think it would be hard to mate in the first place," he commented weakly.

"It is, for some," Jayce agreed. "That's sure why _I'm_ still solo. But mostly everyone around here mates anyway, even knowing what they might end up facing, just because they love so much. That love runs deep, you know. Long before it becomes physical, a couple loves each other intensely. And that love doesn't ever really fade if one of them is gone. It's supposed to be possible with the treatment and a great deal of time for someone to move on and choose another mate, but no one ever has."

"Never?" Throttle asked dully. "Not in a thousand years?"

Jayce gave his head a shake. "That's why we're so careful with who we choose. And that's why I don't like other worlders coming here," he added darkly. "You just don't understand why we have to live the way we do, and you don't understand that when an Imeeran female takes you to bed, it's not for a quick round of fun, it's because--"

"Because she's chosen you to be hers for life," Throttle finished hoarsely.

Because she wants to keep you forever. Because she loves you.

Oh god, what had he done?


	25. Chapter 25

_Even if you're not here_  
_I'll reach you, I'll reach you_  
_Even though you're away, I'm near_  
_We'll forgive and forget_  
_I'll reach you_  
~I'll Reach You;  Delain

Throttle was wandering the city in a daze, debating whether he should head up to the surface or continue to wait down here - and then his mind was made up for him. The team sent up to retrieve the ambushed scouts suddenly came back, and then the whole lower level was in a whirlwind. Citizens dodged out of the way as military and medical personnel rushed the wounded straight to the hospital on stretcher-like contraptions. Throttle dodged out of the way too, his eyes searching the cluster of colorful bodies, both upright and prone, for any sign of a snowy figure. He didn't see her, but he did see...

"Modo!"

As he rushed forward, the medic pulling the stretcher that carried his close and clearly injured friend came to a stop; Throttle dropped to his knees beside it as he hovered over Modo. "Hey, bro," the big gray mouse greeted weakly. The tired smile he forced made the lines on his face grow deeper. There was a blanket over him, so Throttle wasn't sure just how badly he was hurt, but as he fumbled for his hand his instincts told him that his friend just had a very close call. Modo clutched his hand tightly in spite of everything; Throttle's sharp eyes caught sight of the side of his neck, just peeking out the blanket, and saw traces of scorching. A blaster wound.

"You okay, bro?"

Modo managed a quiet, scratchy chuckle. "I've been better."

"His suit tore and he was exposed to the atmosphere," the medic explained. She looked anxious to move on, but she also looked like she understood it was important for the two of them to reassure each other right now. "The burns he ended up getting look like they're only superficial, but we need to run some tests to make sure the toxins didn't get into his bloodstream."

Throttle nodded dazedly, giving his friend's hand a squeeze before letting go and standing. The medic rushed on, and Throttle stepped back to give the rest of them room. He saw Jayce run by at one point, but still no sign of his sister.

Before he knew it, his feet were carrying him to the hospital, rushing through the main door and into the lobby, which was clustered with anxious family members and the like. Throttle glanced at the girl working the front desk, but before he could decide whether to ask her first or just run in, a pink-skinned nurse passing through the room paused when she saw him.

"She's just down the hall," she told him with a smile before hurrying on.

She acted like she knew. And as he hurried out into the hallway and turned a corner, Throttle recalled how Jayce immediately knew what happened just by how his sister smelled. He also recalled those funny looks he had gotten when he first left the residential block. The door apparently swung both ways and now every Imeeran who got close enough to get a whiff of him automatically knew what the scent on him meant.

He didn't know which room was the right one, but he was saved from having to poke his head in each one; as he was hurrying past an open doorway, he caught a glimpse of a white figure bent over a bed in the room. She quickly straightened and turned around when he came in, and as she faced him, Throttle felt something trickle oddly through him.

It started at the tips of his antennas and quietly buzzed through his veins and into his heart. He felt surprise, fear, hope. It startled him, because he knew the emotions weren't his own.

Tamerin turned and bent over the bed again. "You'll be fine," she whispered.

Lying on the bed, skin pale beneath her fur and eyes glassy, was Ashlin. She flashed a weak smile; Tamerin kissed her forehead before straightening again. She then ushered Throttle into the next room and closed the door. Facing him now, her expression was carefully controlled, though there was a frostiness in her eyes. "I thought you left a long time ago."

"I almost did," he admitted quietly. "Then I realized the mistake I was making."

Slender white eyebrows lifted, though her expression didn't change. It worried him a little, but he understood why she had a mask on. He had hurt her--hurt her badly when she didn't deserve it, so he wasn't surprised that she wasn't being very open with him. He just hoped that that control was only on the surface.

"I panicked, and I shouldn't have," he faltered. "I shouldn't have reacted to you based on the way things are back home, not when they're obviously not like that here. And even then," he added as he took a step closer, "it shouldn't matter. You're obviously not what I accused you of being. It isn't fair for me to let myself be blinded by old memories and not see what's right in front of me."

There was another trickle of something--more hope--but it came and went so fast he could barely be sure it was there, like a bubble popping, or a dream vanishing. They weren't touching, so how were these feelings getting to him?

Because she's part of you, a voice inside him whispered. She'll always be part of you.

Stepping closer still, he gently rested his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were guarded as they met his; he took a breath and plunged ahead. "You know how I feel about you, right? Here...let me show you."

She undoubtedly already knew from all the times she'd touched him before he told her to stop reading him. She knew what was in his mind, his heart. No...this was for his benefit. He knew it was cowardly, but he couldn't help it. He had no doubt she could block her mind from him better than even a mouse could, so he had to make her open up to him first, willingly accept his thoughts and emotions. Because only then could he feel hers fully, and as he touched his antennae to her forehead, they rushed into him.

What he felt took his breath away. He had figured out by now that Tamerin loved him, but what shocked him was how _much_ she loved him. With a burning intensity, with a sense of wonder and awe. Like he was something amazing--something so amazing she was willing to take the risk he now knew she had taken.

"I care about you," he whispered, pressing their foreheads harder together as his hands tightened on her shoulders. "I care about you deeply, but I don't know if I can call it love. But I want to. I want to love you badly."

Tamerin blinked back tears. "I know. I knew that from the beginning, but...I wanted it to be enough. I wanted you so much that I..."

"Were willing to risk your own happiness for me," he finished quietly. "Because you wanted _me_ to be happy."

Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Even though you knew there was a chance I wouldn't stay?"

She nodded again.

After slowly breaking the connection, Throttle eased his hands from her shoulders and put his arms around her. She didn't hold him in return. "Why didn't you tell me what it meant for you?" he asked in a whisper. "What I was taking away from you if I left?"

Tamerin swallowed thickly, though her eyes remained dry. "I don't want you to stay because of that," she said quietly. "I want you to stay with me because _you_ want to. I told you, I'm not going to force you to do anything--not a single thing. If you don't love me and don't want me, you're free to go. I know my brother will throw a fit, but no one can stop you if I tell them not to."

Throttle shook his head and held her tighter; cautiously, as if she were afraid she was going to scare him away, she placed her arms around him. "But I don't want to go," he murmured. "Not anymore. I ran because I was afraid, but..."

But he wasn't anymore. Not when he knew now just what she was willing to risk and sacrifice for him. He didn't believe that anyone he'd ever known loved him that much. He'd be crazy to give that up. "I'm sorry I ran away," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

Tamerin smiled faintly as she tightened her arms around him. "And I'm sorry I scared you."

Smiling softly, Throttle reached down and gripped her hand, and they both knew he had lifted his ban of her reading his emotions. Just like they both knew that the thought of someone being this close to him again--of being in a position where he could be hurt again--really had scared him, to the point where he would have probably jumped at any excuse to bolt like he did.

"I'm not scared anymore. And I promise you, I'll never run away again."

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Vinnie asked as he dropped back on the sofa and hoisted Vector above his head. "Do we have the most awesome little family or what?"

Vector giggled and kicked his feet. "Ah-sum," he echoed.

Across the room, Charley laughed and fingered the chain hanging from her neck. Her eyes shone as she watched the two of them.

Marrying his Charley-girl had happened so quickly, he had actually felt a little disappointed there wasn't more to it. She picked him up after work one day and then drove to the courthouse, where they had signed a few papers, said a few words...done. It was all so informal he had felt the need to personalize it just a little.

Unfortunately, he didn't have much to offer at the moment. Just a small, glittery chunk of meteor fragment he had picked up someplace--he couldn't remember where--and had forgotten he'd hung on to it. Hoping it all didn't sound pathetically stupid and corny, he had given it to Charley when they got home and said, "I'm not sure, but I think this has been to the outer reaches of the solar system and back. And you know I'd go even farther for you, and farther still to make it back home to you."

Yeah, he was convinced that that was _way_ too corny...but Charley had teared up and clung to him, sniffling. "I don't have anything to give you," she had whispered.

"What are you, nuts?" he had asked as he held her tightly. "You've already given me the best son any guy could ever want. And you gave me you. What else could I possibly need?"

She'd dragged him off to bed and started on their wedding night after that, and in the morning she had gone straight to the nearest jeweler and had the fragment fastened to a chain. Laughing now, she gave it an affectionate pat before turning and heading to the kitchen. "While you two kids play, I'm going to start on dinner," she said.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Vinnie asked, pretending to pout as he got up and placed Vector in his playpen. "Mommy just insulted Daddy's virility."

Charley laughed again and set a pot on the stove. "It's a compliment," she said wryly. "I fell in love with you as your immature, sarcastic, obnoxious self. And I don't _ever_ want you to change. Got it?"

"Not likely, sweetheart," Vinnie said, as he casually vaulted over the counter. Slipping his arms around his new wife from behind, he rested his head on her shoulder. "Nothing and nobody can take me away from you now," he murmured, his mood suddenly turning serious.

Charley bit her lip and glanced down at the stove. "I know."

"I mean it. I'm yours now--forever. And ever. And--" he noisily kissed her cheek, "--ever. Got it?"

Charley laughed softly, though her eyes were turning moist. "Got it."


	26. Chapter 26

For the second time, Modo found himself slowly blinking his eye open to strange surroundings. Only this time - thank goodness - he found himself in the safety of a warm hospital room. How he got here was a foggy blur, with only vague memories of the rescue team finding him and Ashlin and then rushing them here to the hospital. A team of doctors and nurses had run a few scans, done a few tests, then gave him something that would put him to sleep before starting on his shoulder. He'd slept ever since.

When his head cleared enough to look up from his hospital bed, he saw Deichan-ma'am sitting at a desk in the corner, quietly working at a computer. She smiled when she saw that he was awake and hopped to her feet. "Everything's fine," she told him, sounding relieved. "No toxins got into your bloodstream, and we were able to treat your shoulder and repair your arm without much trouble. I'm kind of upset about the added damage to your skull injury, though," she added, fingering his eye socket with a frown.

He felt a faint sting, but nothing he couldn't handle. "I'll survive," he assured her with a sleepy smile. Deichan leaned a little closer as she continued to softly inspect his eye. As she did, Modo felt his nose twitch. It was faint, but she smelled awfully...good.

Her nacre eyes suddenly glanced at his face. She drew back, looking embarrassed for some reason, and hurried back to her desk. Modo's body felt heavy and tired and he was tempted to go back to sleep, but he forced himself to sit up. "Where's Ashlin?"

"In the next room," the petite doctor instructed, pointing.

Moving too quickly made his head swim, but Modo got up and hurried out into the hallway anyway. In the next room over, Ashlin was perched on the edge of a bed, absently kicking her bare feet. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she hopped down and dashed forward to throw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're okay," she exclaimed as she squeezed him so tight he felt a rib pop. "I was so scared!"

Modo's smile was soft as he rested his hands on her arms. "I'm fine, darlin'. I'm just fine. You?"

Ashlin glanced down over her shoulder, though only for a second before resting her head on his middle again. Modo followed her gaze and saw the pale brown flesh of a brand new tail trailing behind her, regrown in a matter of hours from the remaining tissue. There was a pinkish undertone that hadn't been there before. "How's it..."

He trailed off. A nurse was changing the sheets of the other bed in the room, and she was not-so-discreetly watching them, an amused smile on her face. Modo cleared his throat and slid his arm around the slender Martian's shoulders. "Come on. You clear to get out of here?"

"Absolutely. Let's go."

They both grabbed their boots and the rest of their things, and then she returned her arms to his waist and kept them there as they left the hospital together, heading for the quiet of the park. As they sat on a bench together, Modo absently felt for the shell still in his pocket, glad that it hadn't been damaged. "How's it feel?" he asked softly.

Ashlin let out a quiet laugh as she touched her fingers to her tail, resting next to her on the bench. "Kind of funny, really. Even after they mastered regrowing lost limbs and all that's in them, they never figured out how to stimulate hair growth, so I have to wait for it to grow back. It's kind of cold."

Modo couldn't help giving his head a small shake of amazement. "Can't believe you did that for me."

Laughing again, Ashlin shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Nothin'?" he echoed dryly. "It was a body part."

"An extraneous one," she said, shrugging again.

Maybe so, but that organ operated like an extra hand or a foot to a mouse, and he knew that most would have had a hard time deciding between those three, if they had to choose. Even if they knew they could grow it back in a hurry. Eyes on her lap, Ashlin absently fingered her tail again. "It's not important," she said softly. "Not like your life. I'd do it again if I had to."

Modo felt something inside him break. Something he had suspected might break and had been quietly waiting for it to for a while now. With his left hand, he gently moved her fingers aside as he cupped her tail with his right. Ashlin gave him a shy, uncertain look--and drew in a startled breath as he brought her tail to his lips.

It was pebbly and a little coarse, even without a layer of hair, but Modo kissed it anyway. He kissed and nuzzled and rubbed his face against it, wanting to let her know just how he felt about this part of her--about all of her.

Ashlin was gaping at him, one hand clenched near her mouth. "Modo, what--"

He gently let go of her tail after bestowing one final kiss and reached for her hands. He nuzzled her fingertips for a moment before pressing feather-light kisses to her curved claws, making sure he didn't miss a single one. Ashlin drew in another shaky breath; she was struggling not to cry. "I-I..."

She was at a loss for words, and honestly, he didn't want any talk right now. He just wanted to hold her, and hold her he did, wrapping her in the protective circle of his arms. He nuzzled her face, the softness of her thicker fur. Her cheeks grew damp as tears trickled from her eyes; he tenderly kissed them away.

Exhaling slowly, Ashlin grappled for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. With his fingers coiled in her thick hair, Modo rubbed his nose against hers for a moment. "I think you're the bravest, most amazin' thing I've ever met," he told her in his softest voice. "And anyone who can't see that is an idiot."

Ashlin squeezed her eyes shut as she bit back a sob; Modo tightened his hold on her delicate form just a little more as he cupped her head in his hand. Ashlin let out a quiet sound, her arms tightening around his neck with a shiver as his mouth found hers.

Modo felt a shiver of his own ripple through him. It had been a long, long time--and for her it was probably her first, so he made sure to take his time, keeping it soft, slow, and sweet. He brushed his nose against hers between kisses, reveling in the soft shape of her mouth, her subtle, natural scent, the feel of her teeth grazing against his. 

Ashlin pulled away first, resting her head on his shoulder as she took a moment to catch her breath. Then she was cupping his face, kissing every inch of it as her teary eyes gazed at him with a hint of awe--like she thought he was something beautiful. And in that moment, he knew that was how she saw him. "I love you, Modo," she whispered, sniffling.

Modo tugged her closer, kissing her cheek before pressing his face in her soft hair. "I know you do, darlin'," he murmured. "And I love you back."

* * *

With a rapturous sigh, Throttle fell back against the pillow on Tamerin's bed. "Now _that_ was the best sex ever."

Tamerin let out a laugh as she curled up at his side. "Are you going to say that every time we make love?" she asked, eyes dancing.

"Yes," he said seriously. "Or at least until you stop topping yourself."

Snickering, Tamerin wrapped her arms around him and kissed his face before resting her head on his shoulder. Throttle loved the way she looked at him when they were together, the way she reveled in his touch, in just being close to him. She tightened her arms and legs around him like she couldn't bear letting a single molecule come between them, and as she cuddled against him, brushing her face across the fur of his chest, he got the feeling that she'd love to lose herself in him.

With a quiet sigh of contentment, he drew his fingers through her thick hair, trailing the fingertips of his other hand down her soft face. "I'm sure you're already aware of this, but...you're beautiful."

Tamerin laughed softly as she rested an elbow on his middle and propped her head on her hand. "I know. It's kind of hard not to be around here."

"Does that ever get boring?" he wondered.

"Has been for ages. We at least get a lot of variety where our coloring is concerned, but when we look at other worlds where the people actually age and have a much wider variety of looks, it's kind of unimpressive."

She gave a shrug, luminous strands of white hair spilling over her shoulders. "Honestly, we don't give our looks much thought," she mused, as Throttle absently drew his fingers through her hair again, letting the silken strands slip through them. "Especially when other races are so much more interesting, visually speaking. But when we fall in love that changes--then the object of our affection becomes the most beautiful thing in the universe."

"And that's how you see me?" Throttle asked, as her eyes drunk in the sight of his face.

"Exactly."

He let out another sigh and cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her soft lips. "I dunno, Tam," he said. "For a minute I worried that falling in love with you might take time, but you're making it awfully easy."

In fact, he was pretty sure he already had, a little. Tamerin must have sensed this, because he felt a swell of emotion from her as a smile spread across her lips, just before she leaned closer to kiss him. He wasn't touching her with his antennas, but he didn't seem to need to anymore. When they were this close, her strongest emotions hummed through him. It surprised him how quickly this connection had been made between them...but he hadn't forgotten how Jayce said the connection was made through both time and contact.

And they were in a _lot_ of contact that first night together, not to mention ever since they came back to her apartment from the hospital. He'd lost track of time since then, but he was pretty sure they'd lain here for hours, alternately lying lazily together and giving in to passion.

As their kisses turned heated, Throttle suspected they had done enough of the former and were ready for the latter again. Moaning, he pulled her against him, her body lying flush against his. Their mouths continued to dance as he drew his hands up and down her back, snugging his tail around her waist as he rolled them over, resting his weight on his arms as he settled his lower half comfortably between her legs. Her feet slid up to the small of his back, rubbing his rear and the base of his tail as her thighs opened, welcoming him eagerly...and that was when her communicator beeped.

Throttle let his head drop to her forehead with a grunt. " _Crap_."

He was both annoyed and amused--but then he felt Tamerin's trickle of fear a second before he saw it in her eyes. "I don't want to answer that."

Of course she didn't. Not after what happened the last time someone interrupted them.

Throttle quickly cupped her face in his hands, kissed her deeply, then nuzzled her nose. "I'm not going anywhere," he vowed. "Not ever. Here - feel free to pin me down."

As he spoke, he rolled over onto his back again, letting her straddle him. Tamerin still looked doubtful...but then she glanced down, eyeing their nether regions as she reached for her wristband.

Was she actually going to ride him during the conversation? Kinky.

He was a little disappointed when she scooted forward and settled on his stomach instead. "Make it quick," she said, not bothering to sound polite this time.

There was a pause. "It's me," came Deichan's shy, quiet voice. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but...well, the General is here at the hospital and she wants to see you right away."

This time Throttle felt a trickle of irritation, which matched Tamerin's stiffening posture nicely. "You think the General would remove me from active duty if I told her to go screw herself?"

Deichan made an odd sound, like she was torn between laughing in embarrassment and being horrified. "I couldn't even tell you. Not when she's..."

She trailed off and went quiet for a moment. "Listen, I can tell that you don't want to be bothered right now, but please come here. It's important in ways I can't even say."

There was a quiet beep as the doctor cut the connection. With an angry grumble, Tamerin dropped the communicator and got up to grab her clothes. Throttle felt disappointed--and a little cold--to have her leave him...but he felt her apprehension more. As he sat up, he absently wondered if she could feel him without touch now too, or if his antennas were just working like, well, antennas. "I'll be right here when you get back," he promised. "I don't have anywhere else I'd rather be."

Tamerin paused and looked at him. "Better yet, you can come with me," she suggested. "You're going to have to meet her Generalship eventually, so there's really no point in delaying it."

Puzzled, Throttle got out of bed and reached for his jeans. "I met her," he said. "Well, saw her from a distance a few times. Does it matter?"

Tamerin let out a long sigh. "Yes. She's my mother."

"Oh."

Well, that was different, then. Not to mention frightening.


	27. Chapter 27

Modo felt comfortably lazy as he and Ashlin reclined on a large peach-colored sofa together, the small Martian's head cuddled against his chest. After their mutual confession in the park, the two of them started sharing the stories of their lives, which was how Modo learned that Ashlin had expressed her maturity and independence at age eighteen by moving into this small apartment with Deichan-ma'am. And here he thought she slept at the orphanage all the time.

The little doctor was still at the hospital, so they had the place to themselves as they snuggled in each other's arms and continued to talk between shy kisses. "You know, when I first got here, this wasn't where I thought I'd end up," Modo commented.

Ashlin's smile was soft and shy. "You mean with me?" she guessed.

"That too," he agreed with a grin. "But I was mostly thinkin' about..."

He glanced over where Ako was curled up on the arm of the sofa, sleeping soundly. Ashlin smiled again and held him tighter. "You'll be a great dad," she assured him.

"I always promised my mama I'd make her a grandma someday. Don't think this is what she had in mind, though."

Ashlin giggled and kissed his nose. "No worries. How could anyone not love a sweetie like Ako?"

Modo smiled faintly as he brushed his fingers across her face, caressing the softness of her golden brown fur. "Speakin' of easy to love..."

Ashlin flushed and snuggled her head beneath his chin; Modo tightened his arms around her, absently snugging his tail around her waist. "Can't believe I was so blind I almost didn't see the sweetest, most wonderful girl for who she really is."

"But you did," Ashlin said quickly. "That's what matters. Let's not talk about what happened in the past. Let's focus on the future."

The future was exactly what was on Modo's mind. "You know," he said slowly, "I'd kind of like to take a trip home pretty soon."

He felt Ashlin stiffen a little. "You mean...go home to Mars?"

"Uh-huh. Just for a quick visit," he hastily added. "I mean, I've been alone for an awfully long time, and I know my Mama will be ecstatic to meet you."

Ashlin shifted for a moment, and he didn't need to look at her face, which was still pressed against his throat, to know that the thought made her nervous. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked in a small voice.

"I doubt she'll think badly of you, if that's what you mean."

Modo reached down, tilted her chin and kissed her tenderly. "She'll see in you exactly what I see: the sweetest, most caring person you could ever hope to meet. And that's the only thing that counts."

* * *

When he and Tamerin entered the hospital, Throttle wasn't sure what to expect. Judging by the flashes of nerves he kept getting from Tamerin, she didn't either. They found General Bevra--her mother--in one of the back rooms, with Deichan hovering nearby, typing something on her data pad. She kept glancing at the General and shaking her head, like she was in a state of disbelief.

As the two of them came in, Deichan started to ask, "Do you...?" "I'm fine," the General interrupted, her tone indicating that it was time for the doctor to get lost. With an absent nod of her head, Deichan scurried out of the room.Tamerin watched her, white eyebrows lifted, then looked at her mother. She was perched on a metal stool, and in her hand was a syringe. As the two of them watched, she inserted the needle into her arm and injected a grayish fluid into her veins.

Throttle distinctly remembered Jayce mentioning something about a special injection during that lengthy conversation of theirs. Tamerin came to this same conclusion almost immediately after he did, though her astonishment rippled through him long after his own shock had faded. "What are you _doing_?" she demanded.

The General took a moment to set the syringe aside and flex her arm before answering. "Retiring. I've reached my breaking point with this job and I decided it's time to pass it on to someone else."

Tamerin's blue eyes bugged out. Throttle was pretty sure she was turning pale...but it was kind of hard to tell. "Are you kidding me?" she asked weakly.

"I never kid. And don't expect a big ceremony with symbolic passing of the torch or something. Just step up and take command. You know they'll listen to you."

Throttle felt a scorching rage suddenly buzz through his antennas and into his body, where it settled uncomfortably in his chest. "And what if I don't want that command?" Tamerin demanded, as calmly as she could. "You really think you can just toss this at me and expect me to take it? What about me and what I want? Did you even notice that I now have a mate standing next to me?"

Bevra remained calm as she stood and tugged on a black leather jacket. "Of course. I smelled it on him when you two walked in. Congrats."

She brushed past them and headed out the door. "Oh, and about what you want," she called over her shoulder, "I know what you always want is what's best for everyone in this colony, and that's what you're going to do."

Tamerin waited until the General's brisk footsteps faded away before turning and venting her frustration on the nearest wall. "So, what are you going to do?" Throttle wondered, as his bonded let out a furious growl and raked her fingers through her long hair.

"You heard her," she spat. "I'm going to do what's best for this colony--and that doesn't necessarily mean doing something I _want_ to do."

Groaning, she thumped her head against the wall. "That something doesn't include you becoming General, does it?" Throttle asked warily.

Granted, he trusted Tamerin, but...he didn't really want to find himself bonded to another general.

"Technically, I already _am_ General," she sighed. "If she's passed the position on to me, then it's official. But I can choose not to accept it. I can retire, or pass the position on to someone else and demote myself...though I've never heard of anyone doing that before."

Grunting, she turned away from the wall and rubbed her eyes. "I can't deal with this right now. I didn't mention this before, but...the scouts located the shape-shifters' hidden base before they were attacked. If I'm in charge now it'll be up to me to lead the attack. Whatever happens, it's time this ended. I'll make up my mind about my new position later."

* * *

"What do you think the guys are doing right now?"

Charley looked up from the pan she was scrubbing and over at Vinnie, who was on drying duty. "Feeling bored, Vincent?" she asked casually.

"No," Vinnie said quickly. "Just a little lonely for my bros, I guess. We haven't been apart for this long since..."

He trailed off, brow furrowed in thought. Charley smirked slightly. "Well, _I'm_ certainly getting bored," she declared as she passed the clean pan to him.

Her husband blinked at her in surprise. "With what?" he asked--in a voice that clearly said 'not with me...right?'

Her smirk grew into a smile--a sad one. "With work. I don't like being someone else's repair woman--I like being the boss." There wasn't really anything she could do about it now, but there was no denying that she was living to regret having her old garage demolished.

Vinnie's expression cleared. "Oh. Well, can't you quit and get a new place?"

Charley laughed quietly and dunked a glass into the soapy water in the sink. "If only it were that easy. Getting my own place would cost a lot of money, and I don't really have a whole lot right now. And if I quit, I'd have even less."

She gave her head a shake; like it or not, she was kind of stuck. Vinnie gave her a sidelong glance as he dried off the pan. "Is this a hint for me to get a job?" he asked suspiciously.

Rolling her eyes, Charley elbowed him. "No. Although I suppose it _would_ be nice for you to stop being such a freeloader."

"Hey," Vinnie growled, "them's fightin' words."

As he spoke, he reached over and walked his fingers like a spider up her side to her armpit; Charley recoiled with a jerk and a squeal, spilling soap suds on the floor. "I was kidding," she said quickly. "I'd much rather you stayed right here watching Vector for me while I'm gone all day."

Leaving instructions with the senile, legally blind old lady next door plus running home during her breaks or whenever she thought she could sneak off without getting caught had been getting more than a little tedious.

She grew quiet for a moment. Her hands wiped at the glass, but her eyes weren't really seeing it right now. "When do you think they'll be back for you?" she asked.

Vinnie shrugged and started stacking the plates she had just cleaned. "Who knows? They're bound to notice I'm not sending or receiving any transmissions, but..."

He flashed her a cheeky grin. "They might assume I'm just having too much fun to check in. It might be another few weeks before they start to worry about me, or a few months...maybe a few years."

He shrugged. Charley nodded slightly and withheld a sigh. If that was the case, then she was just going to have to wait.

* * *

Throttle followed Tamerin out of the hospital and over to the guard station, where she marched to the nearest locker and started pulling on a protective suit. "So, where's the base?" he wondered. "Has it been there all this time?"

Tamerin snorted and shoved her arm into a sleeve. "You mean, under our noses for thirty years? Yes and no. The base is hidden miles below the surface, but it's the entrance that we found that's fairly new. They burrowed a tunnel down from the back of a nest of one of those behemoths--which is something we would have never considered checking, since sticking your face into one is ill-advised. But thanks to our new eye-gear, the scouts picked up heat traces that showed signs of drilling."

Throttle gave a nod and reached past her for another suit. "How do you think they got past the owners of the nest?" he wondered, as he nonchalantly slid a foot into the leg of the suit.

"Probably shifted to the shape of something they aren't interested in eating or attacking--though I'd sure like to know what, since they eat or attack pretty much anything. They're incredibly territorial, and that territory is always changing as they move around, looking for the best sources of food. Hence why we like to keep our walks on the surface to a minimum."

She paused to fasten the front of her suit. "I sent up a group of my men as a decoy--they're going to lure anything in the nest away. Getting inside shouldn't be a problem."

"Not until the owners of the base figure out what we're up to," Throttle said knowingly. He reached for his helmet; Tamerin finally noticed his actions. Her hand darted out quick as a viper and seized his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Going with," Throttle replied casually, grabbing his helmet with his free hand.

Tamerin gave his hand a tug, making him turn to face her. Her expression was stern, but he felt a trickle of worry from her. "You most certainly are not," she told him.

Throttle just smiled as he thumped his helmet on, then reached up to lay his hand on her cheek. "If you're going, then I'm going," he said simply. "We're a team now, remember?"

"Yes, but..." Grunting, she gave her head a shake. "I'm embarking on a mission that's not just for my sake, but for the sake of every last person in this colony. I'm not going out to just blow stuff up for fun."

Throttle smiled again. "Neither am I," he said, even though was partly why he wanted to go. "I'm going because, well...you're willing to do anything to complete this mission, right?"

"Of course."

"Even give up your own life?"

She nodded. "If it means this war will finally come to an end? Yes."

"And that," Throttle murmured, "is exactly why I'm going. To make sure that it doesn't come to that."

Even without the conflicted emotions rippling through their bond, Throttle could plainly read her uncertainty as it played across her face. She slowly let go of his wrist, and he gently placed his hands on her shoulders, nudging her closer to him. Tamerin rested a hand on his chest. "It's against regulations," she mumbled.

"So?" Throttle said with a grin. "You're the boss now. Make new regulations."

Tamerin started to laugh--weakly--and sank her head against his chest. He plainly felt her irritation with him, but it was all but lost under a swell of love. Throttle pulled her closer and drew his arms around her, letting that swell wash over him like a wave, warm and all-encompassing. He patted her shoulder. "Come on, General, let's gather the troops."

Tamerin laughed again and pulled away to reach for her helmet. "Don't push your luck."

After she'd pulled her helmet on, she reached over and tugged his helmet off. "Here," she said, holding a round, chubby silver stud earring out to him. "If you're going to tag along, you're going to wear one of these."

After placing the stud in his palm, she grabbed his other hand and tugged him toward that little room that was off to the side. It looked like a storage closet; very small and with white shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. Throttle saw different kinds of clothes, more suits...and pieces of body armor. As she pulled down a breastplate and handed it to him, Tamerin said, "You're also wearing some of this."

Throttle smirked. "You got it, boss."


	28. Chapter 28

_So lift it up like a banner_  
 _Hold it up over me_  
 _If this war is never ending_  
 _I'll take this love down with me_  
~Banner; Lights

The surface of Malteria was just as bad as Throttle remembered. Fortunately, they weren't going to walk; a set of vehicles that looked like a cross between a jeep and a dune buggy were waiting outside the lift. They were already loaded with soldiers, male and female alike, each one armed, ready, and dressed in the same kind of armor he and Tamerin wore over their protective suits. Tamerin went to the vehicle in the lead and hopped up into a seat in the back, gripping part of the frame that arched over her head for balance. Taking a seat beside her, Throttle did the same.

The others glanced at him, but no one questioned his presence. Not even Jayce, who was sitting in the front seat of one of the other vehicles, though Throttle noticed him glancing his way as they started moving. His expression was solemn--almost grim--but Throttle could have sworn he saw a flicker of approval in those dark red eyes of his. "We'll be separating into two squads," Tamerin suddenly said. She spoke so her voice projected to the others, but Throttle suspected she was talking for his benefit. "One to cover each entrance."

"There's another way in?" Throttle asked.

Tamerin pointed to a massive rise in the ground in the far distance. "Another nest on the other side of that dune," she explained. "We'll be hitting the one on this side."

A male soldier sitting up front with the driver--a soldier with a very familiar face--was scanning the area, both with his eye-gear and with the monitor in his hand. "Everything looks clear, Major--General," he faltered.

Tamerin smiled slightly. "At ease, Madson. I'm not used to it yet myself."

At Tamerin's direction, the group of vehicles split in two, with Captain Jayce leading the half heading around the giant dune. Throttle tightened his grip on the frame as Tamerin's group drove down into a valley; the ground was uneven and all the jostling was starting to rattle his teeth. Plus the ruthless atmosphere was making his head swim, but he didn't let on that he was starting to feel a little queasy. Tamerin would probably send him straight back if he did. "So, what's the plan, Major-General?" he asked cheekily.

Somebody snickered, and Tamerin smirked at him through her visor. "We head in hard, fast, and silent. We probably only have one shot at this, so there's no room for screw-ups."

He half-expected her to add something about watching what he said in front of her men, but she didn't. Silence fell after that, though Tamerin and the others were visibly tense. The severity of the situation wasn't lost on Throttle; wherever they were headed and whatever they were about to face, they were going in blind. No one really knew what to expect. Sure, that was exactly how he liked to play, but...now wasn't the time to joke. If this mission was successful, then this thirty-year-war would finally come to an end, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that happened.

The vehicles pulled to a stop at the bottom of the valley, parking in front of what Throttle could only describe as a giant, gaping hole in the ground, positioned at the base of the dune. The sky above them was murky and the wind was kicking up the sand, making the sight even gloomier than it already was. At the very edge of his vision, numbers were rising and falling as the digital beam across his eyes tried to get a reading on how deep the tunnel went.

In the distance he suddenly heard a roar, and his wasn't the only head that snapped to the direction it came from. On the blackened horizon, he saw the vague outline of what looked like a massive two-legged lizard. It was dipping its head and snapping at a pair of riders, who were mounted on what almost looked like a set of four-wheelers. Not quite a motorcycle, but...the way they were weaving around the furious creature, keeping just out of reach of it's snapping jaws...

It actually looked kind of fun.

He almost longed to join them, but Throttle stayed firmly where he belonged--at Tamerin's side. No one spoke as they left the vehicles, weapons drawn, so he didn't either, and he drew his blaster as quietly as he could. Good thing it was him who was here and not Vinnie; that mouse had no clue how to enter any given situation without whooping at the top of his lungs.

Even though part of him longed to jump right into the heart of the action, he was too aware of what was at risk, and he followed along silently behind Tamerin as she headed to the mouth of the yawning opening. Without looking behind her, she lifted her hand and flicked her wrist--a gesture he didn't recognize. It had never occurred to him to learn exactly what all those non-verbal signals meant. Now he kind of wished that he had.

At least he was able to follow the example of the others. After Tamerin's quick gesture, they all fanned out and pressed their backs to the inside of the tunnel's walls. Throttle did the same, moving to a spot next to Tamerin, who had her hand raised in a gesture that clearly meant 'wait.'

Several seconds of silence passed--and then Throttle heard something. It was faint, like a rock shifting and falling somewhere, but as Tamerin quickly snapped a gesture that clearly meant 'move' Throttle realized it must have been a signal from Jayce, positioned and ready to move into the other tunnel.

Without a sound, the group darted swiftly into the darkness. Even with help from his digital visor, Throttle could still only see a few feet in front of him. The walls around him, which were several feet wide and high, were hewn from mud and rock. There were signs of deep, narrow grooves, like the entire thing had been gouged out with giant claws. The ground beneath their feet was coarse and uneven, and even though he tried to walk quietly, Throttle's boots crunched audibly with every step.

The tunnel sloped downward a little, and after the first few feet it opened up into an even larger area, carved out like a cavern. The rocky floor was covered in droppings bigger than Throttle's head, along with the scattered remains of animal carcasses in varying stages of decay. Throttle was glad he had the fresh, clean air in his helmet to breath; it all looked pretty rank.

At the back of the nest, cut neatly in one of the stone walls, was another tunnel. It was much smaller than the one carved by its lizard-like owners, and the ridges left by the tool that had carved it were narrow and smooth. It was also only a few feet wide by a few feet high--less than three each, by the look of it. The shape-shifters probably shifted to a form that could easily walk in and out; as for them, they had to get on their bellies and crawl.

Silent as ever, Tamerin wordlessly indicated for Madson to go first before following close behind. Throttle went after her, with the rest of the squad filing in behind him. It wasn't an uncomfortably tight fit, but it wasn't exactly a picnic, either. There wasn't room to do anything except lie straight and flat; sitting up, or even crouching was completely out of the question. He wasn't really bothered by it at first, but then Throttle started to think about how screwed they would be if something started attacking them. There was probably enough room to wiggle a blaster out of its holster, but they couldn't start shooting or else they'd probably hit somebody they didn't want to--or collapse the tunnel on everyone.

He kept this thought to himself and his eyes glued to Tamerin's boots as they dragged in front of him. It was impossible to be quiet, even for the Imeerans, and clothing and boots scraped and dragged noisily against the dirt amid quiet grunts of effort. There were no other sounds, and the noises that they made seemed to stop dead a few feet in front of them, like the looming darkness was a solid object that sound couldn't penetrate.

Throttle tried to concentrate just on moving along, but after a while, with nothing to occupy his mind except his own thoughts, he started to think about things he probably shouldn't. Like how when crammed in a small space for too long, even those who didn't have claustrophobic tendencies started to feel paranoid. Like the world was closing in on them, suffocating them. He quickly took a deep breath to remind himself that no matter what kind of space he was in, he had plenty of air.

As he continued breathing deeply, Throttle found himself wondering how the other team was doing about now. How long had they been down here, anyway? It felt like hours, but if this base really was miles below the surface, they would be at this for hours more. He attempted to focus his thoughts on Tamerin, wondering if she too was feeling a little anxious right now, but nothing was coming through their bond. Whatever she was feeling, it wasn't strong enough to reach him.

If she could sense him without touching now she could no doubt feel his anxiety, and he quickly tried to get it under control again. And then something changed; somewhere ahead of him, he heard a dull thump that was clearly made by something metallic. For a brief moment they all paused, the hesitation flowing along their row of prone bodies like dominoes, and then Madson started moving again. More metallic thumping, followed by a scrabbling. Throttle lifted his head and caught a glimpse of Madson hauling himself to his feet.

Tamerin quickened her pace and in a moment she was on her feet, too. Throttle hastily dragged himself along and soon found himself leaving the dirt tunnel behind as he scooted out onto a smooth gray surface. There was lighting here, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he pulled himself up and took a look around.

They were in a small square room made of a polished silver metal, and there was a thin strip that ran along the center of each wall, like tiny florescent tubing. It appeared to be glowing faintly, and while the others filed out of the tunnel one by one, curiosity got the better of him and he thumped the side of his helmet, switching the visor beam off.

Without the beam's filter, he could see that the glow coming from the lights was pinkish-purple, and it seemed to cast more shadows than it illuminated anything. It was weird and it had him seeing spots in seconds as his eyes strained, and he hastily thumped the digital beam back on. It was some time before the rest of the squad joined them, giving him a moment to stretch his stiff muscles, and he noticed the others doing the same.

Tamerin was busy exploring this new space. There wasn't much to explore, but she soon found a keypad on one of the walls, along with what looked like the outline of a door. She pushed a button and the door swished open, revealing the inside of a lift. Her emotions were still too controlled for him to read, but he was able to gauge what she was thinking by the way her eyes darted around behind her visor.

The lift was too small for all of them to fit at once, so they were going to have to head down in shifts. Again with silent gestures, she started sending parts of the squad down in groups of four. She put Madson in charge of the first group, followed by a female Throttle didn't recognize in charge of the second group, and Trent was left in charge of the third group. Tamerin took charge of the fourth and final group, which only consisted of her, Throttle, and Melina.

As the three of them stepped into the lift and Tamerin pushed the button to close the door, Throttle braced himself, not knowing what to expect once the ride ended. And he had plenty of time to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen; the swift-moving ride lasted for minutes. If they weren't several miles below the surface before, they certainly were now.

When the lift suddenly came to a halt, Throttle tensed even further, blaster clutched tightly in his hand. And it was a good thing, too; the second the door opened, he heard the distinct shriek of laser fire and frantic yelling. "I guess this means our sneaky approach is over," he noted.

Tamerin was already out of the lift and firing. He darted out after her, keeping to the wall and searching for cover--only to realize there wasn't any. They were in a long corridor with multiple passages and closed doors, designed a lot like the room they first entered. There was nothing to duck behind, so he stayed crouched by the wall and prepared to shoot, though it took him a few seconds to figure out where his targets were.

They weren't in any particular form. Or rather they were moving around in their _real_ form--a shapeless blue-black blob that oozed and slithered along the floor. And the walls, and the ceiling, too. Regardless of where they were or what angle they were hanging from, they were able to shift to a more physical form with arms and legs, just long enough to fire off a blazing white shot, though Throttle didn't see any weapons in their hands.

Imeerans were darting back and forth along the floor so fast he could barely keep track of them. He didn't trust trying to aim around or between them, so he took it upon himself to handle the shifters clinging to the ceiling. Below, Tamerin was yelling clipped orders, though he didn't really understand her--or anyone--over the continuous squeal of laser fire.

He would have thought that an oozing gooey mass would be easier to hit, but they were able to ball up and jump out of the way, or drop like a rock to the floor and start firing back at him. Throttle had to dodge and dive out of the way more than once, but he managed to take out a handful--before he ended up taking a hit.

It was only his arm, but he yelped in surprise and fell back. The shifter that hit him looked wounded as it oozed up the wall above his head, but before it had a chance to take another shot at him, Tamerin appeared and took it out in one final shot. Behind her, the others had taken care of the rest; silence suddenly fell, so swiftly and heavily it felt strange.

Tamerin dropped to her knees beside Throttle just as her wrist com beeped. "All clear here," came Jayce's voice. "According to our readings, cranking up the heat seems to take them out quicker."

"Uh-huh," Tamerin said, sounding distracted as her hands inspected Throttle for injury. "We noticed that, too."

"Unfortunately, that'll burn out our weapons in a hurry, so it's best to save it for when it's absolutely necessary."

"Roger that."

Tamerin quickly found the faint trace of steam coming from his arm; Throttle smiled faintly. "I'm okay," he assured her. "It only nicked the armor. I'm fine."

Tamerin paused and shut her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them and stood to face her men. "We have no idea how big this place is, so it's time to split up," she instructed, calm and collected.

This time she sent everyone off in groups of two. Throttle wasn't surprised when she stuck with him instead of sending him off with someone else. While the others hurried away, each heading down a different corridor, she turned back to him as he got to his feet. He felt a twinge of dread inside her as she rested her hands on his chest, followed by her head. "You know," she said quietly, "all of us could very well die before this day is out. Or we could end up making the breakthrough we've been waiting for these past thirty years. Yet all I can seem to worry about is you."

Throttle smiled again and held her for a moment. "Whatever happens," he murmured, "we'll make it through together."

Tamerin nodded as she stepped back from his arms. He could see the stiffness returning to her posture, the steeliness going back into her expression--general-mode, as he liked to call it. Yet a hint of softness remained in her eyes. "Together," she whispered.


	29. Chapter 29

"Oh, great," muttered Ashlin.

Modo looked up from the box he had just opened. He and Ashlin were back at the orphanage, this time to start packing everything away, since the place was on the verge of temporarily closing down. The adopted orphans and their new parents had already taken all the things they needed, so the rest was going into storage for the time being.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as Ashlin came out of the back room with a frown on her face.

"He's not here."

"Who?"

"Michio. I left him with a nurse at the hospital earlier today and when I stopped in to pick him up, she told me that he had come back here. He's not here now, so..."

Ah. The naughty little tyke had run off again. "Where does he usually go?" Modo wondered. Smiling, he looked down at Ako, who was helping him pack the box. "Do you know where he is, little guy?"

Ako shook his head. "Uh-uh."

"I don't think anyone would know where he's run off to right now," Ashlin noted with a sigh. She placed a doll that looked like it had seen a lot of love into the box. "He didn't start trying to run away until after the residential block was reopened. And he never got very far before somebody--usually you--caught him and brought him back. He could be anywhere by now."

"We'll find him," Modo said confidently. "It's not like he can leave the city."

"No," Ashlin agreed, relaxing. "If he set foot in one of the guard stations, someone would drag him straight back here."

The three of them agreed to look for him when they were finished here and went back to packing. Just as they were finishing up with the last box, the console by the door beeped. Ashlin hurried over to look at the screen for a moment, then turned away with a small frown on her face. "It's from the nurse," she said. "She says they're expecting wounded at the hospital soon and are asking for a few extra hands."

Modo gave a nod; the announcement about the latest mission had been sent through the system a little while ago. And before that the entire colony was buzzing with the news of the General's sudden retirement and Tamerin's promotion. Ashlin had run out to congratulate her and hug her goodbye before she left, while Modo had trotted discreetly on ahead to the orphanage. It had occurred to him that when she found out, Tamerin wasn't going to be very thrilled with just how close he had gotten to her unofficially adopted little girl.

Clearing his throat, he said, "You want us to go to the hospital with you?"

Ashlin smiled in relief as he scooped up Ako. "If you wouldn't mind."

At the hospital, Deichan-ma'am came to meet them by the reception desk, though she only paused briefly to greet them. "How's the new tail?" she asked, as she bustled back to her office.

"Fine," Ashlin reported with a smile as she and Modo followed her. "Bald--but fine."

Deichan gave an absent nod and leaned over her desk to type something at her computer. She eyed the screen for a moment, then straightened up with a slow exhale of breath. "Nothing to report yet, huh?" Ashlin guessed.

Deichan looked at her and started to answer--then stopped herself and lifted her lavender eyebrows. "Anything to report right here?" she wondered.

Modo glanced down at Ashlin--and realized with a start that he'd unconsciously rested his hand on her shoulder. He hastily drew it away and scratched behind Ako's ears, but it was clear from the look on her face that the petite doctor had put two and two together.

"Well, this is unexpected," she noted, as she absently picked up her data pad. She looked distracted--and sad.

"You don't, um, disapprove, do you?" Modo asked uncertainly.

"Huh? No, of course not. If you've gotten around your little problem with _what_ she is, then you must really love _who_ she is."

Modo smiled softly and squeezed Ashlin's hand. "You got that right."

Ashlin smiled shyly at him, and he tenderly brushed a hand over her cheek. Deichan eyed the two of them for a moment, her expression wistful. "I can't help feeling a little envious," she commented with a small sigh. "I'm the only one alone now."

"Tamerin's still single," Ashlin pointed out. "And her mother, well..."

"Her mother came in here right before she resigned, requesting the serum," Deichan informed her.

Modo wasn't sure what that meant, but Ashlin clearly did; she all but gaped in surprise. "You mean--the one that no one has ever used before?"

Deichan nodded. "The very same. And I saw Tamerin right around that same time, too. She had Throttle with her--they've mated."

Ashlin's jaw dropped again--to say nothing of Modo's. "They _what_?" Ashlin asked, stunned.

Modo felt his ears burn. "You mean they...?"

Deichan shrugged, her gaze dropping to the data pad in her hand. "Like I said...I'm the only one alone now. It's not like Jayce is ever going to notice me. You know he's dead-set against ever mating after what happened to his father."

She turned away. Ashlin looked up at Modo, who gave her an equally blank look in return. Didn't jayce...?

"You've had feelings for Jayce all this time?" said Ashlin, sounding more than a little surprised.

Deichan shrugged again, her back facing them. "When you're as old as I am, you get pretty good at masking your feelings, even when someone is touching you. Not that it matters. Jayce never touches me."

Giving her head a shake, Ashlin put her hand on Modo's arm and nudged him toward the door. "My head is spinning--let's go get something cold to drink."

Modo nodded mutely and followed her to the hospital cafeteria. Absently stroking Ako, he said, "When she said Throttle and Tamerin-ma'am have, um, mated, did she mean...?"

Ashlin smiled weakly and leaned her head on his arm. "Let's get that drink first. And then I'll tell you all about Imeeran biology."

* * *

Throttle edged through those silver-gray hallways with Tamerin for hours. After the initial attack when they first arrived, they encountered groups of shape-shifters in spurts. Tamerin exchanged occasional communication with the others, but so far no one had discovered anything of importance. Just endless hallways and rooms with various functions...though beyond a place where weapons and information was stored, Throttle couldn't really name what some of the equipment he saw was used for. They came across a room filled with some kind of capsules that Tamerin guessed they used for sleeping.

Throttle wasn't sure what to make of the lengthy patches of silence. He would have expected that once they realized they were under attack they would send an all-out assault, but they didn't. And each time they came across another group that started firing, it looked like they had disturbed a set of guards. It was almost like this species at war was...unprepared.

After they encountered another group--which seemed to be getting bigger the farther they went in--Jayce suddenly contacted them. "General, they seem to be collecting near the center of the base," he reported. 

"Sounds as good a place to check out as any. How close is it to your position?"

"About a hundred yards, but it's only about thirty straight ahead from where you stand. We've secured all the outer areas, so you shouldn't have any trouble getting inside."

"Good job as usual, Captain. We'll scope it out."

Tamerin cut the connection, then gestured to Throttle to start moving again. They continued to slink along cautiously, scanning carefully around corners, but the hallways had fallen silent and empty. Then Tamerin indicated for him to stop, blaster poised in her other hand. "There's about twenty of them up ahead," she told him lowly.

Throttle squinted through his visor and saw rows of distorted shapes on the other side of the wall they were facing, just around the corner. They were huddled in front of a large closed door. "I've tackled worse," he said mildly.

Tamerin made a quiet chuckling sound. "I'll bet. You ready?"

"You know it."

He leaped right into the thick of things; Tamerin fired from around the corner. Despite the large number, it wasn't long before they had taken all of them out; they stayed by the door and oozed around the floor instead of jumping around the walls or ceiling. When the last one disappeared into a puff of smoke, Tamerin moved over and pressed a hand to the closed door. There was no sign of any way to open it.

"One side, please," Throttle told her gallantly, before he blasted and kicked his way through the thick yet feeble obstruction. Tamerin clucked her tongue. "I could have done that."

Throttle smirked. "I'll bet."

There was another guard waiting for them inside, but this time they were taken by surprise. Instead of firing at them, it shot down from the ceiling like a boulder dropping off a cliff and slammed squarely into Tamerin's chest. She staggered and her back cracked against the wall before the shifter darted off, slinking over her and onto the wall. Throttle stepped in front of her protectively, but the creature still didn't try to fire at them, even as he started shooting at it. He cranked the heat up on his blaster just a bit to take it out quickly, in case it tried to summon reinforcements, then hastily turned and knelt over Tamerin.

She was crumpled against the wall and had her hand pressed to her chest, and it looked like she was having a hard time getting her breath. "It's okay," she rasped as he helped her stand, "just a couple of broken ribs. I didn't think those things were _that_ heavy."

She continued to cough and struggle for air, but she waved Throttle away as he tried to help steady her. "I'm fine," she insisted, coughing again. "I'll heal."

Brushing past him, she started to explore the new area, even as she continued to take heaving breaths. Frowning, Throttle looked around. The room they were in was dark, long and wide, with clunky-looking machinery lining the walls. Pale lights slowly blinked on and then faded to dark again. "I wonder why that one didn't shoot at us?"

His gaze continued to drift--and then it rested on the center of the room. "Whoa. What is _that_?"

Tamerin had noticed it too. Her coughs quieting, she drew closer, her posture showing her to be both wary and curious.

It looked like a large computer system, but...that wasn't all. There were rows of wiring extending from it along the floor that went into the walls, except it didn't look like ordinary wiring. If he didn't know any better, he would swear that it looked more like cords of...flesh.

The computer itself looked even weirder. It stood about as high as their waists and was covered in buttons and keypads and blinking lights, and clear glass tubes that bubbled with fluid. There were also pink and black mounds of knobby, veiny flesh that looked like it was melded directly to the metal panels of the system. "Is it...alive?" Throttle asked in a low voice, tone both awed and disgusted.

Tamerin gave her head a small shake and reached out her fingers, touching their tips to the grotesque mounds of flesh. Throttle almost felt tempted to snatch her hand away. Sure, she was wearing gloves, but... _ugh_.

"No," she said softly, her forehead lined with concentration. "Well, yes--in a way. It doesn't think or function on its own, though. The computer itself is programmed for that."

"What for?" Throttle asked. "What purpose does it serve?"

Tamerin gave her head another shake and pulled her hand away, moving over to the nearby keypad. As she started pushing buttons, Throttle's ears picked up the quiet sound he had come to recognize as one of the shape-shifters oozing up. As he whipped his blaster out and spun around, he quickly saw that there was a lot more than one coming their way. He dodged around the protection of the doorframe and the scattered machinery and equipment in the room, while Tamerin crouched and fired from by the computer control panel.

"I don't think they're happy that we're in here," Throttle noted when they finally had the room cleared again. His visor was registering multiple life-readings in the distance, and they were all coming straight their way.

Tamerin turned and put her hands to the keypad again. "This machine is sending out signals directly to the shifters," she told him, her voice quiet. "It's what governs their every move--almost like this is their brain, if you will."

Throttle thought about that for a moment. "How is that possible?" he asked dryly. "If this thing controls their actions, how were they able to function enough to build it in the first place?"

That was kind of like saying the chicken had laid the egg before the chicken had hatched.

Tamerin straightened up, though her fingers stayed pressed to the keys. "I don't think they did," she replied softly. "I think they're like us. Somebody made them this way."

"Oh." He frowned. "And that somebody was the one who told them to wipe you out?"

Tamerin shook her head again and looked at him. Her expression was grim--and tired. "According to this data, no one instructed that. This system is very old--it's malfunctioning. The signals are getting distorted and garbled. They're not supposed to attack anyone--they were made to gather information. Catalogers."

"You mean--"

He didn't even want to say it. A war that had claimed thousands of lives--all just a mistake. Tamerin was staying composed, but he could clearly feel a plethora of conflicted emotions flooding through their bond...and underneath them all there was a great deal of pain. "So...what should we do?"

She looked back down at the console. "This machine can't be fixed, and if I had to guess I'd say that the ones who built it are long gone. I don't see we have much choice. We have to destroy it."

Throttle studied the strange machine again. If this thing really functioned as the 'brain'... "Won't they stop functioning as a species if it's destroyed? If it controls their actions, then I doubt they can operate without it."

"Probably not. They might die out as a result, or...maybe they'll fade away for a while. Slowly learn to think and grow on their own. It might take centuries for them to learn on their own, but maybe someday they'll figure it out. Maybe they'll learn to be their own species."

Through her visor, Throttle saw her smile slightly. "Just like us."

He could scarcely believe what he was feeling from her right now. Empathy. Understanding. And not a trace of ill will.

Wordlessly she drew her blaster. It was getting ready to overload after their last battle, and Throttle took a step back as she clicked it to the highest setting. She followed his example and moved back a pace before firing once, then hastily laid the angrily humming weapon down on the console before taking cover behind the other machinery. Throttle crouched low and remained poised and aimed at the open doorway, prepared for another ambush for their actions.

The blaster exploded, and sparks and flame erupted from the 'brain' and its computer. Before long the flames had engulfed the entire mass and spread along the wiring on the floor. When the sparks finally died, the flames slowly dwindled to a quiet smoldering. Only charred, smoking lumps remained; Throttle returned his eyes to the doorway, but the readouts on his visor had suddenly stopped registering life readings.

Tamerin's communicator suddenly beeped. Her eyes still glued to the damage she had just done, it was a moment before she brought her wrist up near her mouth. "Yes?" she asked dully.

"Everything all right out there, General?" came Jayce's voice.

A spark popped. "Everything's fine. Everything's just fine."

"We had a few coming at us over here, but now they just kind of disappeared," Jayce told her.

"Here too. And they're not going to come back."

She started to say more, but then Throttle felt something inside her break. Her hand dropped to her side and she trembled slightly as she tried to throw her steel walls back up--to go back into general-mode--but she didn't quite manage it. She fell to her knees as a sob escaped her.

Throttle hurried to kneel beside her and put his arms around her. "It's all right," he told her softly as he held her--staying mindful of her ribs. "It's over now. It's all over."

Tamerin all but collapsed against him as she tried to hold back another sob. She didn't quite manage that, either. "I shouldn't be doing this," she insisted tearfully. "I should be out there gathering my men and taking them home."

Throttle just smiled softly and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sure Jayce is handling it," he said confidently.

She laughed quietly at that. "Yeah. He always does. It's not the first time he's had to pick up after me after I've fallen apart."

Letting out a shaky sigh, she tightened her arms around him and pressed her head to his shoulder, helmet clacking against his shoulder guard. "My mother is right--I _am_ too emotional to be in the military. I quit."


	30. Chapter 30

Modo, Ashlin, and Deichan-ma'am were sitting together in the little doctor's office when the message came through. They were each waiting anxiously for any news about the mission, particularly if wounded were coming, Deichan-ma'am parked faithfully at her desk and the two of them perched on stools next to it. When the communications screen suddenly came to life, the pretty doctor hastily leaned forward to read the displayed message. She slowly sank back in her seat with a look of shock on her face. "It's over."

Ashlin looked up from cuddling Ako. "The mission?"

Deichan gave her head a shake. "The war."

Ashlin stared at her. "What?"

Deichan's nacre eyes were still glued to the screen, darting back and forth over the lines of text. "It's come directly from Tamerin: the shape-shifters won't be attacking us anymore. She says she'll be sending out a full report later, but for now..."

Swallowing thickly, she turned away from the screen and faced the three of them. She looked shaken, but her eyes were glowing with joy. Ashlin shut her gaping mouth and hopped off her stool. "Are there any wounded on the way?" she asked quickly.

"Only a few. Nothing we can't handle on our own, so..." Smiling, she lifted her hand and made a dismissive gesture. "Go on. Get out there and have fun."

Her eyes shining now, Ashlin turned to Modo and grabbed his hand. Ako wiggled out from under her arm and hopped up onto her shoulder. "Come on," she urged, voice bubbling with excitement.

"What happens now?" Modo wondered as she pulled him out of the hospital.

"What do you think? Life around here goes back to the way it _should_ be."

Modo had thought the celebration that erupted when the city reconnected had been impressive; now he saw that was only a small taste of what happened when Imeerans really let loose. The news spread faster than wildfire and by the time they left the hospital, people were already rejoicing. The lights of the city seemed to swell as everyone ran to the center of town, bright, glittering and more colorful than ever. Imeerans whooped and shouted for joy, couples danced with each other, and some even hopped up onto benches and started singing. It reminded Modo a lot of the sight that had awaited them when they first returned home to Mars two years ago. It was beautiful.

Laughing, he and Ashlin were pulled right into the festivities. Party favors that exploded with confetti and streamers fired off all around them, drinks and sweets were passed around, and Imeerans Modo didn't recognize kept hugging him. Emotion was running so high right now no one cared about being self-conscious; they wanted to show their joy and to share it with anyone within reach, and so they latched on to whoever held still long enough. Above their heads flashing signs and scrolling marquees blinked with words like 'peace' and 'at last.'

They might be a race designed for combat, but it was obvious that Imeerans were happiest when they stayed off the battlefield.

Ashlin, who had picked up a waffle cone somewhere along the way, suddenly gave his hand a tug. "Look--there's Tamerin," she exclaimed.

Modo turned to look just as the already noisy crowd grew even louder, erupting with cheers. Coming through one of the tubes was General Tamerin--their hero--looking tired but joyous. Walking with her, his hand clinging tightly to hers, was Throttle.

Clearing his throat, Modo put his hand on Ashlin's waist and helped her edge her way through the crowd. When the four of them met up they stopped and stood opposite each other, with a couple of feet or so between them. Clearing his throat again, Modo nodded to their tightly clasped hands. "So, you two..."

He trailed off. Tamerin was giving him a funny look--a knowing, accusing look. Frowning, Modo glanced down--and realized his hand was still on Ashlin's waist. He hastily pulled it away. "Yes," Tamerin said, her tone even...yet packed with warning. "And the two of you?"

Ashlin bit her lip, though she leaned a little against Modo's side. "I know this is probably a little strange--and unexpected, but..."

"Never mind how it happened," Tamerin said, her gaze fixing on the small Martian. "The point now is...are you happy?"

Ashlin gave a nod. "Yes. So very happy."

And then Tamerin smiled softly, put her hands on Ashlin's shoulders and nudged her closer. "Then I'm happy too," she said, kissing her forehead. "I know he'll take good care of you--because I'm sure he knows I'll bust him in two if he doesn't."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Modo, almost laughing in relief. Still smiling, Tamerin hugged Ashlin for a long moment before letting go. Ashlin happily returned to Modo's side, slipping the arm that wasn't holding Ako around him and resting her head on his middle with a happy sigh.

Tamerin suddenly nodded at Ako. "And what about this?" she asked.

Laughing softly, Modo looked down at his new son, who beamed in return. "This? Well, I decided I'm ready for parenthood after all."

"That's what I thought."

Modo smiled a moment more, then turned serious as he looked over at Throttle, who had kept quiet during all this. "What about you?" he asked quietly. "Are you happy, bro?"

Smiling faintly, Throttle laced his hand with Tamerin's again and softly kissed her fingers. "I am. I didn't think I would be--not like this. But I am."

Modo couldn't see his friend's eyes, hidden behind his specs like they usually were, but he could tell by the aura of happiness that was now surrounding him that his decision was the right one. Smiling, he slid his arm around Ashlin's shoulders. "We were thinking about taking a trip to Mars. How 'bout you?"

"I think I could use a nap, actually," Throttle said as he covered a yawn.

"And I need to take a quick trip to the hospital," Tamerin added. "Plus I have to send in my official resignation from duty."

Ashlin looked at her in surprise. "Already? They only just sent out the announcement of your promotion yesterday."

Tamerin just smiled at Throttle, her eyes glowing with love and affection. "Now that the war is over...I have other things to take care of."

"We'll go on ahead, then," Modo decided. "It's not like it'll take you long to catch up once you decide to make the trip."

Instantaneous teleportation was nice like that.

"Oh--that reminds me," Throttle suddenly said, "Vinnie's still on Earth."

In all the excitement, Modo had all but forgotten about him too. "Yeah, but he has the ship," he reminded him. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to check on him."

Throttle gave a nod and slid his arm around Tamerin's waist. "We'll go see how he's doing after we're done resting up here, and then we'll meet you on Mars."

Right before the four of them parted, Ashlin suddenly darted over to Tamerin, grabbed her hand and stood on tiptoe to whisper something in her ear. Tamerin raised one snowy eyebrow but said nothing. Ashlin then let go, grabbed onto Modo again and led the way back to the residential area, and into her and Deichan's apartment. "Can I help you pack?" Modo asked, as she opened a drawer and started putting things into a cheerfully-colored canvas bag.

Ashlin pulled out a tiny pair of undies--and put them back with an embarrassed 'eep.' "Ako can help me," she said quickly, flushing. Behind her, Ako was busy jumping up and down on her bed pillows.

Modo smirked. "You sure?"

"Positive. So go on--shoo. I'll come find you when I'm ready."

She waved him out of her bedroom and locked the door. Still smirking to himself, Modo drifted around the apartment for a few minutes, then wandered back out into the hallway. Everyone had left home to celebrate, so it was silent here, the sound of music and laughter out in the city too far away to hear.

And then his ears picked up something that made him stop and strain to listen. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he just heard Rimfire's voice.

Curiosity had him wandering farther down the corridor, past the doors leading into private homes--though a lot of them stood open since the residents were in too big a hurry to close up properly. Most of the doors were automatic, but they could all be locked in the open position if somebody thought they would have to run in and out really fast.

As he drifted past the different apartments, Modo noticed that Imeerans seemed to be fond of a specific color scheme, each as unique as the bright colors of their unusual skin. Some were in shades of blue and white, others were pink and purple. At the end of one of the corridors, Modo paused outside one doorway in particular.

There was something striking and beautiful about the interior...if a little cold. The walls, carpet, and ceiling were a frosty white, and so was the fabric of the furniture. Anything that wasn't upholstered was made entirely of glass; glass tables, glass sculptures, glass rods holding up the gauzy white curtains. It gave the entire room the smooth, chilling feel of ice, like it was part of an arctic tundra.

And then there it was again. This time he was sure of it--Rimfire was calling out. Like he was in pain...?

Body tensing and ready to tackle anything that stood in his way, Modo rushed in the direction of the sound of his nephew's voice. The icy apartment had fallen silent again, but he was sure Rimfire was somewhere inside. He bolted across the main room and to a door at the back, which swished quietly open as he drew near.

When he stepped into the doorway he came to a halt; the door opened up into a bedroom. And it wasn't empty--an Imeeran female was lying in the crisp white bed. Her skin almost blended in with the sheets as she sat up in surprise, keeping her chest modestly covered with the blanket as she clutched it tightly. Hair like blood and flame spilled over her glossy white shoulders, and eyes that gleamed like amber ringed with molten copper stared at him in surprise.

It was the General--the ex-General, he reminded himself. Modo was about to flee the apartment stammering embarrassed gibberish--but then he realized that she wasn't alone. Someone was sitting up in bed beside her. Someone with pale tan fur and dark brown hair streaked with gold. Eyes like moist milk chocolate bugged out at him.

Modo felt such a surge of emotion roil through him he couldn't tell one from the other. The surge exploded from him in a single hollered exclamation. "What in the name of Mars do you think you're _doing_?"

This had to be wrong. This _couldn't_ be what it looked like. His nephew couldn't have done this. Bits and pieces of Ashlin explaining to him how Imeerans mated came rushing back to him. Bonding for life...separating considered a crime...

"Do you have any idea what you've _done_?"

Rimfire suddenly fumbled the sheets off, leaped out of bed and grabbed his pants from the floor. The former general, still clinging to the sheets, slipped airily off the mattress and stood beside him; Rimfire flew an arm out in front of her. "I'll handle this."

"Handle this?" Modo raged on. "Do you even realize what this means? What this is supposed to make the two of you?"

Of course he didn't. He was too young to understand. Modo shifted his blazing gaze to the red-haired female. "Did you even tell him?" he demanded furiously. "I can't believe you'd take advantage of this innocent little boy and--"

Teeth bared, Rimfire suddenly flew out a hand and shoved him. Modo was so surprised all he could do was stare as his nephew scowled fiercely at him, eyes flashing. "Don't you _dare_ talk to her like that," he growled.

Rimfire finished fastening his pants and turned around, placing his hands on the ex-General's shoulders. "Stay here, okay?" he said, his tone abruptly turning soft and pleading. Tender. "I'll take care of it."

He kissed her, then turned around and pushed his uncle clear out of the bedroom. The door swished shut behind him. Modo's shock quickly faded and was overtaken by fury again. "I can't believe--"

"I can't believe _you_ ," Rimfire shot back hotly. "Barging in here and embarrassing me like this?"

"Embarrassing you?" Modo echoed in shock. "Do you have _any_ idea what this means?"

"Yes. Bev is my mate now. And if you _have_ to know, this isn't the first time we've been together. We love each other and--"

"Oh, you are _way_ too young to even comprehend what you've gotten yourself into!"

Growling in fury, Rimfire clenched his fists like he was ready to punch him. "I'm not a child anymore," he hollered. "I know you're too blind to see it but I grew up a long time ago! I know what I'm doing and I know what I want, and you have no business telling me what I can and can't do!"

"But--I'm the one who's supposed to look after you," Modo cried. "I'm the one who knows best for you, and--"

"I don't want to hear about it anymore," Rimfire snapped. " _I_ know what's best for me now, and I'm not the little boy you need to protect anymore! Now get out!"

As he spoke, he pushed him out into the hall, then slammed his fist against the panel beside the door. It swooped shut with an angry click. Modo thumped his hands against the outside of the door, tempted to tear it down, toss his nephew over his shoulder and drag him home. Instead, he slowly drew his hands away, stepped back and returned to Ashlin's apartment in a daze, feeling like his heart was quietly breaking.


	31. Chapter 31

_I live_  
_I breathe_  
_It's so unreal_  
_You opened up my heart_  
~Unbelievable;  Issa

Tamerin only spent a few minutes at the hospital, where she was looked over by Deichan and then given something to rub on her chest for the pain. "I'll help," Throttle offered.

Tamerin laughed and slapped his arm, and Deichan flushed prettily in shy embarrassment. "She's such a cute little thing," Throttle noted as they left the room together. "It's too bad she's still alone."

But unless Jayce got over his misgivings, she'd probably always be alone. And speaking of the Captain; Tamerin turned a corner and entered a room where her dark-skinned brother was perched on the edge of a hospital bed. He wore the same expression as his sister: tired, yet happy.

Smiling, he hopped down and pulled Tamerin into a warm hug. "Good job, General," he told her.

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without you," she said as she hugged him in return. "In fact," she went on as she stepped back, "there are dozens of things over the years that would have never gotten done if it weren't for you. Which is why I'm going to retire now and leave you in charge."

Jayce blinked his red eyes once. "You mean it?"

Tamerin glanced at Throttle with a faint smile. "I always do what's best for the people of this colony. And I know that I'm too distracted by my thoughts of someone else to be a good leader anymore. You're better than that. I know you'll stay focused, even once you're mated and a father."

Jayce snorted. "You know that'll never happen," he muttered.

His sister smirked at him. "It will if I say it has to," she said slyly. "Because my final order before officially retiring is for you to march straight down to Deichan's office, grab her and kiss her until she can't breathe. Is that clear?"

Jayce all but bugged his eyes out at her. "Are you serious?"

"Very. And if you disobey me I'll have you thrown in prison."

Smirking at her brother's obvious shock and embarrassment, Tamerin punched his shoulder. "Trust me."

She turned and hooked her arm around Throttle's, and together they left the hospital and wove their way through the throngs of celebrators back to Tamerin's apartment. Inside, Tamerin kissed his cheek before slipping away from his grasp. "I'm going to go have a shower," she told him softly.

"And I think I'll take that nap now," Throttle yawned.

He curled up on the couch and was asleep in moments. When he woke up again he couldn't remember dreaming, but he felt rested and peaceful, and he sat up to stretch. A moment later Tamerin came back into the room--undressed from the waist up. Her skin looked moist and dewy from her shower, her hair hanging in airy clumps that were still a little damp. She had separated it into two sections that hung in front of her shoulders and modestly covered her breasts, though this tenuous camouflage did nothing to mask their full shape. Her arms and legs were bare, while her bottom was covered in a pair of snug pink shorts that rode low on her hips and were tied together at the sides with black crisscrossing cord. The cord didn't draw the tight material all the way shut, allowing her skin to peek through.

"So," Throttle said casually, as she drifted over and leaned a hand on the back of the couch, "what's on the agenda, Major-General?"

Tamerin smirked. " _Ex_ -Major-General," she reminded him. "And I was thinking about spending some of my new free-time spoiling you a little."

As she spoke, she lightly drew her hand up his arm to his shoulder, which she softly squeezed. "Works for me," said Throttle, with approval.

He lightly gripped her waist and started to pull her closer...but as something occurred to him--something he had forgotten about until now--he paused. Turning her gently, he coaxed her by her hips to sit on his lap, where he then smoothed his hands over the silk-like skin of her back. His fingertips trailed over her tattoo, noting how there was no sign of redness or healing. Just the perfect blending of ink and flesh. "Beautiful," he murmured, as he pressed his mouth to her skin.

Tamerin said nothing, but he plainly felt through their bond that she was flattered--along with a rush of affection. Throttle stilled, his hands still on her back, framing the regal set of wings. He thought about some of the things she had said today--about how she had basically quit the military because being with him was more important to her now. It was a thought that made him feel, well...loved.

He was just drifting his mouth up to her shoulder when his ears twitched; something was crinkling. Something behind the couch. Puzzled, he nudged Tamerin off and twisted around until he could see behind him. Lying on his belly on the floor, reading a data pad and munching on a candy bar was the little goat-creature from the orphanage.

Smiling casually, the furry being looked up at them as Tamerin peered down with Throttle. "Hey," he greeted cheerfully.

Tamerin made a scoffing sound. "Michio, what are you doing here?" she demanded. "Why aren't you at the orphanage?"

"Too boring," Michio responded, returning his gaze to his reading. "Everybody's gone now."

Huffing, Tamerin pushed away from the couch and marched to her bedroom. She returned a moment later wrapped in a silk robe. "You wouldn't be there anymore either," she reminded him as she knelt beside him. "If you'd just behave, someone would be happy to adopt you."

Michio made a grunting sound as he sat up. "I told you, I don't want to be adopted by _them_."

"'Them' who?" Tamerin wanted to know.

"You know--any of them. Anyone who's not you."

Tamerin gave a start. "Wait--me? You want _me_ to adopt you?"

Flashing his most beguiling smile, Michio crawled into her lap and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Pretty please?" he said sweetly. "You'd be the bestest mommy. And I won't settle for _anyone_ else."

While he cuddled his head on her shoulder, Tamerin cast Throttle a helpless look; he shrugged uncertainly in return. "I--don't know what to say," she faltered.

"You say 'yes,'" Michio told her with a giggle. "'Yes, Michie, I'll be your mommy, because I've always secretly loved you just a little bit more.' Well, except maybe for Ash."

Tamerin looked a little dazed, and she absently patted his head, while Michio made a sound of contentment. "Well," she finally said slowly, "I guess I _am_ partial to guys with fur coats."

Michio let out a happy yell and bolted up, running for the door. "Let's go sign up right away," he exclaimed.

"Now, just a minute," Tamerin faltered as she stood. "Throttle and I are a team now--this isn't a decision I can just make without him."

She looked at him. Throttle blinked once, then looked at Michio, who batted his eyes innocently. "I think I'd be seriously in the doghouse if I said no," he commented.

Tamerin laughed softly, but she reached over and squeezed his hand. "It's okay to give your opinion," she said. "Ten years is a long time--and even once he's grown up, he'll still be ours."

"For life," Throttle added. "I get it. It's a little soon, but...I don't really have a problem with it. We'll probably have kids of our own someday, right?"

He'd never really thought about it before...but the idea of raising a family with Tamerin was a nice one. But when he looked at her again, she was eyeing him uncertainly. "About that...I don't know if anyone ever mentioned this to you, but this is the first time one of us has mated outside the species. And not just because we're so isolated here; mating is one thing, but we're extremely wary of actually breeding. There's so much genetic information in our makeup, it could potentially end up getting a little...messy."

Throttle furrowed his brow as he considered this for a moment. "So...no kids of our own, then?"

Tamerin shook her head. "I love you, but I'd really rather not risk it."

Nodding, Throttle looked at Michio again. "I guess that makes the choice easy, huh? Unless you don't want me as your new dad," he added teasingly.

Michio wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes as he looked him over. "Bikers are supposed to be pretty cool, so I guess you'll be okay," he allowed. "Maybe."

Tamerin let out a laugh and shook her head. "That settles it," she said, as she hurried back to her room. "We'll run straight over to the orphanage."

After Tamerin put on some regular clothes, the three of them headed back into the city--where the celebration was still in full-swing and probably would be for days to come--and made their way to Stardust House. They weren't sure if Ashlin was still around, but when they got there she was in the middle of closing up, having just finished packing away all the old supplies into storage, she reported.

With everything else that had been going on, Throttle hadn't really stopped to think about the unexpected revelation of her and Modo's sudden relationship, but now it struck him just how unexpected it really was...considering. He didn't know Ashlin all that well himself, but if Modo felt the way that he clearly did about her, then that made her A-okay in his book. If she was love to his bro, then she was 'sis' to him.

"What can I do for you?" Ashlin asked, shouldering the bulging canvas bag she was carrying.

Smiling, Tamerin looked down at Michio, who was beaming and clinging to her hand. Slowly, a knowing smile spread across Ashlin's face. "You know, you could have just signed everything yourself," she noted wryly as she opened the front door again.

"I want you to do it," Tamerin said casually as they followed her inside. "In fact, even though you're not quite twenty yet...I'd like to hand over my portion of ownership to you."

Ashlin turned around in surprise, an extra-wide data pad clutched in her hands. "Really? Are you sure?"

Tamerin nodded. "There's no one better for the job. As for me--" she glanced at Throttle, "--I've got another job to worry about now."

Ashlin took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes loving as she gazed around the small but cozy room. "I can't imagine being happy with another job, but...there's not a whole lot to do around here right now."

"No," Tamerin allowed, "but you never know."

But for now, the final orphan was officially getting a new home. Ashlin handed her the data pad; Tamerin signed, then handed it to Throttle. "Speaking of new parents, where's Modo?" he wondered, as he scrawled his signature across the screen.

Ashlin's face fell. She hastily took the data pad back and turned to put it away. "He and Rimfire had a fight."

Throttle felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. "Oh?" He didn't think those two ever fought. Sometimes, they were almost like father and son.

Nodding, Ashlin turned around again. Her eyes, which were full of uncertainty, were on Tamerin. "I don't know if I should tell you," she faltered. "But I think you have the right to know."

Tamerin gave her a funny look. "Tell me what? What happened?"

Ashlin took another breath and rubbed her hands together nervously. "What he and Rimfire fought about. You see, well--it was about Rimfire and your mother," she blurted. "They've mated."

Tamerin's shock was like a fist to the gut--even worse than what Throttle had felt from her when she saw her mother taking the injection. "They _what_?"

Cringing, Ashlin drew back and hugged her bag to her chest. "Please don't strangle the messenger," she begged.

"Wait," Throttle said weakly as his mind swirled with all the angry words Jayce had spoken to him the other day, "does Rimfire even realize what that means?"

"Modo told me that he insists he does, but..." Ashlin shrugged. "He doesn't believe him. Says he's too young for all this."

"I'm inclined to agree," said Tamerin, sounding as dazed as she felt. "My mother is almost three hundred years old."

Ashlin made a face that clearly said she knew this already. Murmuring a goodbye, she scurried out of the orphanage. Throttle put an arm around his shaky mate and guided her back home. None of them spoke along the way, but as soon as they stepped into the apartment, the weird discovery was pushed aside for a fun-filled evening. Throttle and Michio were assigned table duty while Tamerin cooked a feast, celebrating the new era of peace and their brand new family.

He'd made the decision quickly, but Throttle wasn't sure about being a dad so soon...at first. After being forced to chase Michio around the apartment after dinner before he managed to tackle him and drag him off to bed, he laughingly quipped, "I think this'll be easy after all. I'm used to dealing with obnoxious white furballs."

Michio responded by beating him with a pillow; Throttle tickled him in return until he gave up. "No sneaking out of bed," Throttle warned as he left the small room.

"No kissing," Michio shot back.

Chuckling, Throttle stepped away from the door sensor. "No promises," he said as the door closed.

He crossed the apartment to Tamerin's room--their room, he realized. At least, it would be if he decided to settle here, but...he was pretty sure he didn't want to. Not permanently. He wasn't sure if Tamerin wanted to move to Mars, though. Maybe they could compromise and visit back and forth. He'd have to ask.

As the door slid open, he found Tamerin standing by the bed, nude and getting ready to slip on the breezy nightgown in her hands. Smiling softly, he stepped over and gently took it from her and set it aside. Unabashedly naked in front of him, Tamerin quietly watched him as he slid his hands up her satiny arms. Only the lamp by the bed was on; under its gentle light, her skin seemed to glow from within, so much like the moon.

A moon that gently used its light to watch over dark times. Guiding someone's steps when they weren't sure where to go, or when their path was unclear. Swallowing thickly, he reached up and cupped her face as his heart swelled with emotion until it hurt. An emotion that could only be called love.

Tamerin must have felt it too, because her blue eyes suddenly pooled with tears, though a smile touched her lips. She didn't say anything, and neither did he. He just drew closer to her and brushed his mouth against hers for a moment. When he pulled away again, he said softly, "I have to ask you something."

Her eyes studied him for a moment, and he was pretty sure she already knew exactly what was on his mind. "You want to go home," she guessed.

He nodded. "Just for a little while," he said quickly. "We don't have to move there permanently if--"

She suddenly pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "We're a team now, remember? I go where you go. Mars or here--it means nothing to me. So long as I have you and we're together, I'm happy."

Throttle swallowed again, but he couldn't quite stop a hint of moisture from touching his eyes. He pulled his specs off and left them on the nightstand with her wrist com, then gently lifted her in his arms and laid her on the bed. Brushing his hand over her cheek, he merely gazed into her eyes. Smiling faintly, Tamerin's eyes trailed over his face in return; she suddenly reached up and fingered his ear. "You ditched the scanner," she noted.

"Yeah...I kind of figured my specs will do from now on."

He absently touched her fingers as she caressed the two earrings he was wearing--and then he sat up straighter as a thought struck him. "I know you don't need anything else to show it around here," he said softly, "but on Mars, no one is going to know what we mean to each other just by the way we smell."

As he spoke, he pulled out the spiked-ball earring he always wore. Cupping her hand, he placed it in her palm. Tamerin cocked a snowy eyebrow. "It's a little big for my puny ears," she commented.

Throttle just smirked. "So don't wear it in your ear. Just wear it, everyone I know knows that this belongs to me. And when they see you with it, they'll know that you belong to me, too."

He curled her fingers around the earring, then tenderly kissed the back of her hand. Tamerin raised her other hand and beckoned him, and he gladly went into the circle of her arms. He was still dressed but he didn't bother doing anything about it; he just held her. Held her and stroked her hair between soft kisses as they reveled in what was passing between them--this feeling of warmth and love. Of belonging.

It didn't matter what happened when they went home to Mars. It didn't even matter what happened the next morning. Right now, in this perfect moment set aside just for the two of them, everything was right and good. Right now, nothing could spoil that.


	32. Chapter 32

After such a long and full day, Modo and Ashlin agreed to return to her apartment for the night and head to Mars first thing in the morning. Modo dozed on the sofa with Ako--fitfully. He still couldn't believe what his nephew had done, and he tossed and turned as it worked on his mind, to the point where he got up and paced around the apartment a few times before going uneasily back to sleep. When he felt Ashlin's hand on his shoulder, gently trying to rouse him, he gladly got up for the day.

"Still tense about what happened yesterday?" she asked softly as they headed through the transparent tube toward the city.

Modo gave a quiet nod. He almost didn't want to leave the tube, it was so quiet in here, so peaceful as they walked through the ocean. Everyone else was still celebrating in the city, so it was like being in their own private world, just the three of them. But inevitably the moment came to an end--and as they emerged from the tube and stepped out onto the glossy black street, the first thing he saw was Rimfire.

He was crossing through a throng of partiers, his arm tightly around the red-haired Imeeran female beside him. For a moment he was smiling, but then his gaze fell on his uncle. His smile disappeared as his steps came to a halt. "In case you're interested, I was about to head home," he said coolly. "You know, just in case Carbine is done pouting and ready to put me back on duty."

Judging by the bag former General Bevra was toting over her shoulder, she didn't plan to come back any time soon...if ever. No, she fully planned to set up house with the young mouse next to her. Modo took a breath to try and calm the anger--and unhappiness--that was threatening to rise inside him. "We were heading back that way too," he said thinly.

Rimfire patted the ex-general's shoulder and started walking again. "I don't suppose you'd like to take the trip together, so...guess I'll see you around."

They kept going and were soon out of sight, lost in another group of joyous Imeerans. Modo didn't really want to be around so much happiness anymore, even though he didn't begrudge them their joy...but right now it just served as an uncomfortable reminder of how lousy he felt. Ashlin gave his hand a squeeze, and he managed a weak smile as they started for the guard station.

When they got to the transporter room, a familiar face was stationed at the console. "Hey, Trent," Ashlin greeted warmly. "Think you can send us to Mars?"

"No problem," Trent said mildly. He started pushing keys...then paused and glanced suspiciously at Ashlin. "Have you ever set foot off Malteria before?"

"Um...no. Not since before I was brought here as a baby."

"Thought so. Does Tam know about this?"

She nodded. "I leave with her blessing. Besides, she's following us later."

"In that case, have a great trip."

As he punched in the coordinates, the three of them headed over to the lockers and started pulling on a set of protective suits. Well, Modo and Ashlin put on the suits; Ako was bundled in what looked like a stretchy bag with a see-through panel on top. It was his first trip since he came to Malteria too, and he was pretty excited about it, wiggling around eagerly as Modo crooked him under one arm and walked through the outer doors and into the lift.

As they rode to the surface, Ashlin nervously hugged her bag to her chest. His heart full of affection, Modo gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Why can't they just teleport us from inside?" he wondered as they left the comfort of the lift and stepped out into the unwelcoming, swirling sands of Malteria's surface.

She gave an absent shrug. "I'm not really sure. Something about the signal needing to be sent from point to point in an open space."

Modo put an arm around her and held still, and a few moments later the tingly blueish-white light spread over them. When it passed, he blinked and found himself looking around the center of the Martian mice residential district. Ashlin went stiff.

"It's okay, darlin'," he told her softly. "Just be yourself."

Ashlin was too nervous to be much of anything, and she mutely let him steer her along, arm still wrapped snugly around her shoulders, as he headed in the direction of his mama's. A few of the neighbors glanced at them as they passed, eyes curious, but Ashlin hadn't so much as taken her helmet off yet. No doubt they were wondering where they got their shiny duds, he thought with a smirk.

When they reached the front door of his mama's home, he paused to take Ako out of his protective bag before handing him to Ashlin--she dropped her things and took him mechanically--and then reached up to tug his helmet off. First thing he was going to do after this, he thought eagerly as he peeled his suit off, was go grab his bike and take a blazing ride through the desert.

It felt so good to be home again his spirits couldn't help lifting. Smiling, he looked at Ashlin, who was still standing stiff as a board. "Hey," he said gently, as he reached to take her helmet off, "relax."

"But..." She swallowed thickly. "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Of course she won't 'like' you," he said mildly as he started unfastening the front of her suit. "She's gonna love you. Why wouldn't she?"

Ashlin snorted. "Why indeed."

He pushed the suit down past her waist; she hastily slapped a hand over her rear, vainly trying to cover her bald, rat-like tail. His smile tender, he took her hand, kissed her clawed fingers, then gently pulled her through the front door. "Mama?" he called as they stepped into the cozy living room. "I'm back. And I brought, uh, company."

With the cheeriest of smiles on her face, his little mama came scurrying out of the kitchen--and then she stopped and hiked her glasses up onto her forehead. "Is this what I think it is?" she exclaimed as she looked at him and Ashlin standing together. "Oh please, tell me this is what it looks like."

Chuckling softly, Modo gave Ashlin's hand a squeeze. "It's exactly what it looks like," he confirmed.

"Well, it's about time! You darling girl, come here and let me hug you."

Ashlin had been staring bashfully down at the rug; now she let out a startled yelp as his little mama all but pounced on her, yanking into her a huge hug. Modo chuckled quietly and bent to pick up Ako as he squirmed free from between the two girls and hopped to the floor. As petite as Ashlin was, she still had to stoop forward a little as his mama hugged her around the neck.

When she finally released her, her gaze fell on Ako. "And who's this sweet little thing?" she asked eagerly.

Chuckling again, Modo held him out to her. "Just a little somebody I adopted while I was away," he said casually.

"Well, isn't all this a surprise," she said as she took him and held him up so she could get a better look at him. "My, he's just precious. Would my new grandson like to help me in the kitchen?"

"Okay, Granmommy," Ako agreed happily as the two scurried back to the kitchen.

Ashlin watched them blankly, looking a little dazed. "She didn't even notice," she mumbled.

Modo smiled softly and laid a hand on her arm. "She noticed what was important," he pointed out.

With a quiet exhale of breath, Ashlin pressed a hand to her eyes and rested her head against his side. She swallowed thickly; Modo slid his arms around her and held her gently. "Are you gonna cry again?" he wondered.

Ashlin shook her head, and when she moved her hand and looked up at him, her eyes were bright, but dry. "No," she said softly, smiling. "The way I feel right now, I don't think I'll ever cry again."

* * *

"What do you mean, I have to wait here?"

Michio folded his arms and pouted his lower lip as he trotted closely behind his new parents. "We'll only be gone for a little while," Tamerin said patiently. "Then we'll come right back, and then we'll all head to Mars together. All right?"

The little goat-creature looked like the idea gave him a bit of separation anxiety, and he grabbed her hand and rubbed his cheek on her arm. "You won't take too long, right?" he asked pleadingly.

Smiling, Tamerin paused to bend and give him a quick hug. "We promise. Now go on--wouldn't you rather go party with everyone instead of tag along on adult business with us?"

She gestured to the nearby crowd, where some of his fellow recent adoptees were playing together. Michio eyed them for a moment--before bolting away with an absent 'Bye!'

Throttle smirked and slid his arm around Tamerin's waist. "Think he'll miss us?"

"Nah."

Chuckling, she rested her head on his shoulder as the two of them continued on to the guard station together. Trent greeted them at the controls. "Awfully busy in here today," he commented, as they grabbed a pair of suits. "You're the third set I've sent off in the last hour."

"We'll be right back," said Tamerin, as she thumped on her helmet. "Set coordinates for Earth's Chicago, please."

Trent punched in the numbers, and a few minutes later they were shedding their now unnecessary gear and walking along the street together. They checked around the garage Charley worked at, then a few places close by, but there was no sign of either her or Vinnie. "Anywhere else he might be lurking?" Tamerin wondered.

Throttle shrugged. "Just about anywhere, really. It might be easier to ask Charley first. If she hasn't scared him off, she might have seen him recently."

"He didn't strike me as someone who takes a hint very well," Tamerin noted with a smirk.

"You got that right," Throttle agreed, smirking in return. "I just hope we find him in one piece. "

They continued on down the street at a relaxed pace, an arm around each other's waists. Hopefully, this wouldn't take too long; he wanted to hurry back to Mars to see if Modo needed some cheering up over his nephew. "That's something that's going to take me a bit to adjust to, too," Tamerin remarked when he mentioned this to her, her nose wrinkling. "You haven't seen how she's been the last thirty years like I have. I keep expecting to wake up and find that yesterday was just a dream. Well, I keep expecting that for more reason than one, actually."

Throttle smiled and kissed her cheek. "I sure hope not. That would mean I'm just a dream, too."

Tamerin smiled faintly, then let out a small sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. "There must be a pretty interesting story behind this," she mused. "That kid has to be something awfully special."

Throttle cringed a little. "Emphasis on the kid part. Jeez, three hundred years old?"

Tamerin lifted her head and smirked at him. "I'm a bit of an old hag myself," she reminded him.

"Are not," Throttle said mildly. "You're only a few decades older than me, not a few centuries."

Tamerin suddenly paused. Throttle followed her gaze across the street to a small apartment building near the street corner. "Is that it?" he wondered.

She gave a nod and they headed across the street and up the front walk, where they stopped outside the main doors. "Locked doors here and more locked doors inside, and no pass codes to be shared with all your trusted neighbors," Tamerin noted, sounding bemused. "Or any place to enter them, for that matter. How exactly do we proceed here?"

Smiling in quiet amusement, Throttle pointed to the rows of names and numbers on the board next to the door. "Try the buttons over there," he instructed.

"Oh."

When Tamerin reached over and rang the button marked 'S. Davis' he opened his mouth to correct her--and then hastily shut it. He'd all but forgotten that Charley had changed her name. 

"Yes?" came a voice over the speaker, which cheaply crackled with static.

"Hey, Sam," Tamerin greeted, though she sounded a tiny bit uncertain. Throttle could relate; in all the recent excitement he had forgotten about the bizarre scene that took place when they first ran into their old friend again, but now it came back to him.

"Tamerin?" came 'Sam's' voice. "Alex said you quit."

"I did. But I came back to see how you're doing."

Throttle leaned over his mate's shoulder. "Is Vinnie still here?" he asked. "Or did you, you know, get sick of him and kick him home or something."

There was a long silence. Then, very softly she asked, "Is Modo with you, too?"

"No, he already went on ahead to Mars. We're joining him after we're done here."

Another silence fell, and for a moment Throttle thought that Charley had cut the connection, but then she said, "Look, why don't you guys just come up? I...can't really explain anything like this."

There was a buzzing sound as the nearby door unlocked. Throttle glanced at Tamerin, who shrugged and followed him inside. They headed up to the third floor and started down the hall, looking for her apartment number...but then they saw Charley herself.

There was no mistaking her this time. She had on a snug t-shirt and that embellished denim jacket, along with a casual pair of dark jeans and what looked like her old boots. Her hair was a tiny bit longer than when he last saw her--and the right color. It was still short and a little spiky, but seeing that red-brown color framing her pretty face seemed to make everything else about her jump into perspective. Even with the soft touch of smoky eyeliner, she still looked like the girl he knew.

It was such a relief he almost wanted to hug her...but he kept back uncertainly. It was a look that Charley mirrored as she leaned her shoulder against the wall, on the other side of the open door she was standing next to. "Sorry about all the weirdness before," she said, laughing weakly.

Throttle gave a nod. "Any reason you felt you had to do...you know, all that?"

She shrugged and glanced down at her toes. "I needed to hide for a while. But everything's okay now."

Taking a small step back, she waved a hand to the open doorway, like she wanted them to go inside. Shrugging, Throttle stepped over the threshold and into the apartment--and stopped and stared in stunned silence.

To his left was a small living room, and creeping past the coffee table was something he could only describe as a pint-sized version of Vinnie. Dressed in a pair of blue sleepers and hugging a plush bear, the baby mouse tiptoed by, unaware that he was being watched. Make that gaped at.

Throttle continued to gawk, nudging his specs down to the end of his nose and wondering if _he_ was the one dreaming now, while the little creature crept on to the kitchen area. As he was nearing the long counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, a much larger mouse suddenly sprang out from behind it with a playful "Boo!"

The little one took off with a squeal; laughing, Vinnie crawled on all fours after him--and then paused, his gaze slowly lifting from the pair of boots he had just spotted, until he was staring up at who was standing in the doorway. "Um...hi, bro," he greeted, with a sheepish grin. "How ya doin'?"

"Feeling a little confused right now, actually," Throttle responded dryly. "My perception of time is still a little fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure we only left you here a few weeks ago."

His gaze shifted over to the kitchen, where the mini-Vinnie was peering around the counter, clearly wondering why the fun chase had stopped. Charley came in and brushed between the two adult mice before scooping up the one dressed in sleepers into her arms, lovingly kissing his furry cheek. While Vinnie got to his feet, Throttle pushed his specs up onto his forehead as his eyes shifted from him to Charley and back again. "Okay, I give up," he finally said, nodding to the baby mouse in Charley's arms. "How'd you manage this so fast? Not that I think it's a bad thing that you two have made up so well," he added with a grin.

Charley flushed and fiddled with a pendant hanging from her neck. "It's not like that," she faltered. "I mean, it is, but..."

Sighing, she gestured over to the living room. "Just come in--sit down. It's going to take a bit to explain everything."

After he and Tamerin made themselves comfortable on the sofa, Charley brought out bottles of root beer, which Tamerin politely refused, though she happily accepted a glass of raspberry iced tea. Vinnie took a seat in a chair by the window, while Charley paced by the fake fireplace for a moment, still cradling the baby mouse. Throttle had only been joking a minute ago; this kid couldn't really be theirs, could he? Not unless...

He went rigid as a thought struck him. That baby looked about fourteen or fifteen months old. Which meant he must have been conceived...right before they left for Mars. Tamerin lowered her glass and gave him a funny look. "What's wrong?"

Throttle didn't answer her as he jerked his angry gaze at the mouse sitting innocently by the window. "Vinnie, you _bastard_."

The mouse in question almost snorted root beer up his nose. "What'd I do?" he cried, wiping his mouth. Charley turned pink and covered the baby's ears.

"This is why Charley was so mad she was ready to take your head off," he accused. "Hell, if I were in her position and left like that--" he jerked his head at the little one wiggling in her arms, "--while you escaped off-planet, I'd be ready to pitch saw blades next time I saw you, too."

Vinnie bugged his eyes out and sputtered for a moment, like he was at a complete loss of what to say...for once. "But--I didn't--"

"That's not what happened," Charley quickly cut in. "We didn't..."

She gave herself a shake. "He wouldn't be capable of even talking to you right now if _that_ was what happened," she muttered. "No, this happened when...well, this'll sound strange, but do you remember that weird night we had right before you were called back to Mars? The one where that thing kidnapped us all and tied us up?"

Throttle frowned in confusion; that actually happened to them quite a lot. He was about to ask her which time she meant--but then it hit him. "You mean, that thing that I never saw?"

Charley shuddered. " _I_ saw it. It was like a cross between a giant bug and a lizard in fancy robes, and it--"

"You mean a Rigavian?"

Puzzled, they all turned to look at Tamerin, who had been listening quietly until now. "You ran into them once, too?" Throttle wondered.

She gave her head a shake. "Not directly, but I've heard of them. They're a gentle race, but they have this weird paranoia that life on most planets will suddenly die off somehow, so they quietly travel the galaxies and take tissue samples to test against other samples--to figure out which species are capable of procreating naturally."

Throttle made a face. "Oh. _That's_ what kind of samples it was talking about."

"They keep all the samples stored away somewhere until the, uh, appropriate time, but it's not uncommon for them to test a successful blending on the female at hand immediately, to see if the hybrid can be successfully carried to term."

Charley gave a nod. "I didn't want to believe what happened that night," she went on, faltering a little. "It told me all about compatible samples and then injected something into me, but...I was too scared to believe it. I didn't want it to be real. But it wasn't long before the truth became impossible to ignore."

Smiling faintly, she gently rocked the baby still in her arms. Throttle was quietly gawking at her as he struggled to comprehend all this. "Wait--you knew you were pregnant and you didn't tell us? Not even before we left?"

She gave a small shrug and stared down at the carpet. "I knew how badly you guys wanted to go home," she said softly. "And what was I supposed to say? 'So long, guys--oh by the way, I'm having a baby and one of you is the father, but I have absolutely no idea who.' _It_ didn't have the courtesy to tell me, so I didn't know until he was born."

Throttle gave his head a shake, feeling a little dazed. "Still..."

He knew it must have been beyond hard--and painful--for her not to say anything that night. No wonder she'd felt so abandoned by the time they came back. "What about all the, uh..." He gestured vaguely. "The hair, and the name and...everything."

Charley swallowed thickly and held her son closer; Vinnie got up from his seat. "I was scared," she whispered. "I was so scared. It's not like I could tell all my neighbors I was carrying some alien's offspring--someone would've called a government lab and had him carted off to a dissection tray. Maybe there was one or two I could have trusted, but...in the end I decided not to say anything, because I knew dragging anyone else into this would disrupt their lives. And I knew all my customers would start asking questions when they found out I was pregnant, so I got rid of the garage before I started showing and moved across town. But that didn't seem like enough...my regulars knew what I looked like. So I cut my hair and colored it. I started working out more in the hopes of beating off anyone who dared touch my son."

"Nothing deadlier in the universe than a mother protecting her young," Tamerin commented casually.

"But even that didn't feel like enough," Charley went on sadly. "People still knew my name, so I finally changed that, too. I took a job at a place where no one had ever seen or or heard of me and hoped I'd be safe there--that my precious son would be safe."

She swallowed again and closed her eyes. "And...I didn't know Vinnie really wanted me. I was so scared that if he found out he'd--take him away from me. My son was all I had; I wouldn't have been able to handle it if I lost him, too. It would have killed me, so I hid from you three, too. I know now that it was probably overkill, and pretty crazy, but..."

She trailed off and shook her head, her eyes still closed as tears glistened on her eyelashes. Vinnie suddenly reached out and drew her tightly into his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart," he told her softly as she sniffled. "I'm here now. Everything's okay."

Feeling awkward--like he was intruding on a moment he had no business watching--Throttle squirmed a little and looked away. He looked at Tamerin instead, who seemed glad to look at him in return and away from the couple by the fireplace, who continued clinging to and whispering tearfully to each other. "So," Throttle said uncertainly, "does this mean that my, uh, 'sample' is going to be used to impregnate some unsuspecting female someday?"

"Someday," Tamerin confirmed. "Could be hundreds of years from now, though. Whenever they decide to do another live test--or whenever the population of Mars drops to a scattered few."

"Either way, it kind of creeps me out. But I'm glad it wasn't mine that was used, here."

When the pair finally parted, Throttle got up from the sofa with a smirk. "Let's be real: we all knew it was supposed to be the two of you. It just took extreme circumstances for you to stop being stubborn and realize it."

Charley laughed and cuddled her son, who was clutching the pendant around her neck in his furry little hand. Throttle suddenly had a feeling he knew what that pendant was supposed to represent. "It was worth it in the end," Charley declared, kissing her son's fuzzy cheek.

Throttle grinned. "You're going to introduce us, right?"

Laughing again, Charley lifted the little squirmer so he could see him better. "This is Vector. See, Vector?" she cooed. "This is your Uncle Throttle."

Chuckling, Throttle tweaked his little black nose. "Welcome to the team, kiddo."

Vector laughed and stretched out his hands. "Unco," he gurgled.

"You really lucked out," Throttle noted. "He's got Vinnie's looks, but he wound up with your manners."

"Good thing, too," Charley agreed cheekily.

Vinnie rolled his eyes, but he smiled. "Modo's a daddy now too," Throttle commented casually.

Vinnie nodded absently; for some reason he was looking at Tamerin, a funny look crossing his face. Then he did a double-take. "Wait--Modo did what?"

"He adopted an orphan from my planet," Tamerin explained as she stood from the sofa.

"Plus he found himself a girlfriend," Throttle added with a grin. "He went on ahead of us to Mars to introduce her to his mama."

Looking a little blank, Vinnie gave himself a shake. "And you said _we_ worked fast," he commented dryly. "Oh, and I already figured out that the two of you are an 'us.'"

At first Throttle didn't understand what he meant...but then he realized that Vinnie was looking downward, his eyes fixed on Tamerin's wrist. He followed his gaze and noticed for the first time that she had put on a bracelet this morning. It was a simple silver chain, and it only had one charm dangling from it: a spiked ball.

Smiling softly, his eyes loving, Throttle lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, her bracelet glinting in the light. "What can I say? We used to be three, but now we're nine."

Looking confused, Vinnie counted on his fingers for a moment. "Ummm, unless there's one more hidden somewhere, this only makes eight of us," he concluded.

Tamerin smiled. "We adopted a son, too. He's waiting for us to go back and pick him up."

"And then we're heading to Mars," Throttle added. "Care to join us?"

For a moment Vinnie's face lit up--but then he forced his excitement down and looked at Charley. "I can't," he faltered. "We--"

Charley thrust their son into his arms and spun on her heel. "I'm already packed," she said crisply as she marched down the hall. She came back a moment later with a suitcase; Vinnie looked a little bewildered. "But--"

"But nothing," Charley said firmly. "What am I going to do here? My old life is over. My garage is gone, I severed ties with all my friends, and I erased my old name. And I don't even want to keep the new one--I barely remember to answer when someone says it to me at work." She gave her head a shake. "Everyone's been asking questions lately--why I colored my hair and everything. They don't get that this is the way I'm _supposed_ to look, and trying to avoid dangerous questions was the whole reason I ran away in the first place."

She looked at Vinnie imploringly. "I'm not happy here anymore. All I want now is to be with you."

His expression melting, Vinnie reached out with one arm and pulled her to him; Vector wiggled in his other arm. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Positive. Now take me home to Mars."

"And if she ever wants to visit," Tamerin added casually, "I'm sure I can arrange something. I'll be living on Mars now, too."

"See?" Charley pecked Vinnie's nose. "It's all settled."

Vinnie was so happy, he almost looked ready to cry. Smiling discreetly, Throttle nudged his specs back down and slid his arm around Tamerin's shoulders. "We'll give you a few minutes to make sure you're not forgetting anything," he said as they left the apartment. "We'll wait for you outside."

"Uh, one other thing," Vinnie called after them. "Don't think I didn't notice you looking around without your specs all this time--what gives? I get a full explanation, right?"

Throttle chuckled. "Of course, Vin. Of course."


	33. Chapter 33

_This is my time_  
_I won't forget it_  
_Won't leave it all behind_

_This is your crime_  
_I won't regret it_  
_For once I had to fight_  
~Bleeding;  Elysion

After lunch, Modo and Ashlin spent a few hours chatting with his little mama before tearing themselves away, though they left Ako with her for the afternoon so the two of them could, as Mama put it, have some more grandma/grandson bonding time. Just as they were heading outside, Modo was surprised to see two very familiar figures passing by in the distance. Grinning, he grabbed Ashlin's hand and hurried to catch up.

"Glad to see you two finally made up," he noted cheekily as they reached Charley and Vinnie, who stopped walking and greeted them with cheerful smiles. Modo was all smiles too as he looked them both over, noting how Charley-ma'am looked like her pretty auburn-haired self again--and then his eye fell on what she had cradled in her arms. "Whoa. You two _really_ made up."

Laughing, Charley brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Throttle said almost the same thing a little while ago."

She took a moment to give him a brief rundown of exactly how her little son came to be; Modo listened in mildly stunned silence. "Well, however it happened," he said when she was finished, "I'm just happy the two of you are together now. The way you should be."

Charley clucked her tongue. "Did everybody have us figured out except us?"

"Apparently," sighed Vinnie.

Modo grinned. "Hey, what's right is right. And I don't think nothin' else looks quite as right as the two of you do right now."

The obviously deeply in love couple smiled shyly at each other for a moment, and then Charley-ma'am cuddled their sleepy son a little closer...while Vinnie suddenly took a closer look at the slender Martian standing quietly next to Modo. "Enough about us--who's your friend?" he asked, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes plain.

Modo snaked an arm around Ashlin's shoulders and pulled her closer. "Oh, just somethin' I picked up while I was on vacation," he said slyly.

Vinnie snickered, clearly in favor of his decision. "Good job, bro. Hey--high-five."

Ashlin flushed while they playfully slapped hands; Charley rolled her eyes and elbowed her new husband in the ribs. Smiling shyly, Ashlin shifted her weight a little and slid her arms around Modo's waist. Vinnie's grin suddenly vanished; his gaze had fallen on her tail.

Modo quickly shot him a warning look--which must have been even deadlier than he had meant it to be, because the white mouse took a step back with his hands raised in a sign of surrender. "We'll, um, finish catching up later," he said nervously. "Charley and I, uh, need to go find a place to live now that she's permanently moving to Mars."

His irritation fading, Modo looked at Charley-ma'am in surprise. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed softly, her eyes on her son. Vector yawned quietly and pointed a stubby finger in Modo's direction. "Unco?" he wondered curiously.

Modo laughed quietly and lightly squeezed his tiny hand between his fingers. "Absolutely, lil bro. You're officially part of the Modo protection program now. Anyone ever bugs you, you just let me know and I'll come runnin'."

The little guy giggled like he understood what he meant. Vinnie smiled as he put an arm around his wife and nudged her closer. Modo looked the two of them over again; there was something personally satisfying about seeing them like this, together and so very happy. "You sure you need a different place?" he wondered. "It's probably dusty by now, but our pad's plenty livable."

Ever since they came back to Mars two years ago, the three of them had been casually sharing a small place, though it had only really served as somewhere for them to sleep when they weren't off goofing around somewhere.

Vinnie smiled knowingly and squeezed Charley's shoulder. "I'm sure. Throttle's off looking for a new place too, so why don't you two take it?"

Modo looked down at Ashlin, who smiled it return. "Sounds good to me," she said softly.

"Me too. Thanks, bro."

"Don't mention it. We'll talk more later, okay?"

The happy family said goodbye, and Modo, his arm still around Ashlin, turned in the opposite direction, planning to show Ashlin the place in question. But just as they were crossing in front of a section of small businesses that bordered the area, he heard someone call out loudly, "Who let _that_ in here?"

Modo froze. Ashlin, who had been looking happier than he had ever seen her for the last couple of hours, went deadpan as she huddled at his side.

The speaker was a mouse that Modo barely knew, but he had stopped whatever he had been doing and was now glaring at them like he had just been insulted personally. "She has as much business bein' here as any mouse," Modo told him, teeth gritted.

"Don't give me that, I can see her ugly rat tail from here."

By now they'd caught the attention of others who were passing by, and before Modo knew it a small crowd had gathered around them, murmuring unhappily to each other. Gritting his teeth harder, Modo tightened his arm around Ashlin, silently warning anyone from so much as stepping a hair closer. But somebody ignored this warning--and this time it was somebody that Modo _did_ know. He and Modo hung out together at the nearby bar and grill all the time, but now the large mouse was staring at him like he was a stranger.

"Out of everybody I've ever known, you'd be the last one I'd expect this from," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Don't push it," Modo advised darkly. "Just walk away while you still can."

The burly biker responded by moving even closer; Ashlin shrank back. "Are you threatening me?" he challenged.

"No...just givin' you sound advice from one mouse to another."

"But he's right," the first speaker cut in. "You out of anyone should know better than to bring a rat--"

"She ain't no rat," Modo snapped, his temper rapidly waning.

He started to say more, but Ashlin suddenly laid a hand on his arm. "That's not true," she said softly. "I _am_ a rat."

"Only half of one," Modo argued.

"That's half too much," somebody said. He wasn't sure who. Still standing in front of him was his ex-friend from the bar, and he had a disgustingly smug, triumphant look on his face. That was too much for Modo--but just as he was lunging forward, fist raised, Ashlin darted in between him and his future punching bag.

"Don't," she said, just as softly as before. Her expression was carefully controlled, but he knew her well enough to know she was deeply hurt. "I don't want you to wind up getting hurt over me. Just let it go, okay?"

She ducked her head after she spoke--to hide the tears, no doubt--and brushed by him, hurrying off through the crowd, who parted for her like she was poisonous. Her voice came back to him like a whisper...and she said the words, "I'm going home."

Modo felt something like ice water rush through his veins. Mars had never been home to her, so that could only mean one thing. She was going to contact someone and teleport back to Malteria.

It was stupid of him to have brought her here in the first place. He really should have known better. But the only thought that had been in his mind was that if _he_ could love her so easily, then everybody could--and everybody would. Now he saw that it would never be like that, and that it was selfish and cruel to bring her here and subject her to this.

No, she was better off on Malteria where she belonged. And maybe, he thought bitterly as he shoved his way blindly through the crowd, she was better off without him, too.

* * *

"You know," Throttle sighed, "I thought we would have at least a day or two before this happened."

He and Tamerin were heading through the center of the residential district. Michio had run off, already making friends with local young mice, and the two of them were about to start looking into enrolling him in school, plus they needed a new home to move into.

They had only taken a few steps when he caught sight of Carbine, and she was heading their way. Judging by the look on her face, she hadn't spotted them yet. Throttle thought briefly about letting go of Tamerin's hand...but in the end he chose not to. What was the point? She'd find out one way or another. It was best to just get it over with.

She noticed him first. Throttle wasn't sure how she managed to miss a willowy figure the color of snow, but her eyes settled on him and she stopped walking, leaving several feet between them. "I'd heard you were back," she said, her tone carefully neutral and controlled.

Then her gaze fell on Tamerin. Throttle watched blandly as her eyes looked her over, her expression growing tighter as they drifted downward to their clasped hands. In the light of the sun, the bracelet and charm on her wrist glittered.

"Well," Carbine said, her tone dryer than Martian sand, "it sure didn't take you long to rebound."

Throttle just smiled as he turned his head and gazed at Tamerin, who smiled softly in return. Once upon a time an exchange like this would have irritated him; now all he felt was a deep sense of calm. Of peace. "I wouldn't say that. She and I have been working our way to each other all our lives."

Tamerin's smile deepened, her blue eyes shining. He lifted her hand and kissed it, his earring dangling from her wrist for all to see. The General made a scoff of disgust. "You know, you could at least have enough respect to--"

"Respect?" Tamerin echoed sharply before Throttle could open his mouth to respond. Her eyes abruptly turned cool as she gazed at the General. " _You_ were the one who locked him up. Twice."

Clearly taken aback, Carbine faltered for a moment. "Yes, but that was--"

"Duty?" Tamerin supplied. "The one who loves you should always be first in your heart, no matter what. Duty is no excuse for betrayal."

Throttle tightened his grip on her hand. Carbine opened her mouth to say something--then shut it, turned on her heel and stalked away. Tamerin smiled faintly and leaned her head on his shoulder. "She'll get over it."

"You think?"

"If my mother can get over my father, then _anyone_ can get over _anybody_."

Throttle thought about that for a moment, then eased his hand from hers and slid his arm around her waist. "Technically she's my mother now, too," he noted as they started walking again. "You'll have to fill me in on what she was like--your father too. Give me the whole back story."

Tamerin chuckled softly. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, once we're in our new home."

"The one we haven't picked out yet," Throttle added with a grin.

Smiling, she lifted her head and gazed at him, her eyes full of warm affection. She absently laid her hand on his chest as she said, "We've got all day to work on it. There's no rush."

No, Throttle thought, as he rested his head against hers and tightened his arm around her. There was no rush. They had their whole lives to make plans.

* * *

Modo's throat was tight and his eye burned suspiciously as he stumbled through the front door of his mama's home. He swallowed a couple of times before he spoke. "Mama?"

"We're in here," came her voice from around the corner.

Swallowing again, Modo headed through the front hall and into the living room. "I messed up," he mumbled, voice cracking. "I--"

He stopped. His mama was sitting in her favorite rocking chair, with Ako perched on her lap--and sitting on the floor at her feet was Ashlin. While he gaped in confusion, she jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his middle. "Don't you dare blame yourself," she told him softly, severely. "It's not your fault."

"But..."

He was almost too stunned to speak. His hands rested on her shoulders as he swallowed back the huge lump in his throat and tried again. "I thought you left," he said in a whisper, not trusting himself to speak any louder. "I thought you went home."

Her arms still around him, Ashlin lifted her face and looked at him. "But I _am_ home," she said, her voice soft and even. Firm. "It's right here with you."

Modo swallowed again and blinked rapidly, but nothing was going to stop the flow of tears that had been threatening to overtake him now. "But after what happened today--"

"I don't care," Ashlin said, with the same firmness as before. "It doesn't matter what they say or think. Maybe I cared once, but I don't anymore."

A smile touched her lips as she reached up to brush his tears away, then tenderly cupped his face in her hand. Modo squeezed his eye shut and gave his head a shake before looking at her again. "How did this happen?" he asked, with a weak laugh. "I'm the one cryin' and you're the one comfortin'."

Ashlin laughed with him softly, then coaxed him to bend forward a little. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. " _You_ happened," she murmured into his ear. "You helped make me strong."

Modo let out a shaky sigh. "Darlin', whatever it is you want to do..."

"I want to start our life here," Ashlin said, with conviction. "You, me, and Ako. As long as we're together...nothing else matters."

She kissed his cheek, then slowly let go and stepped back. As Modo straightened up, his mama came quietly forward and passed Ako to him. "Go on," she urged softly, her eyes misty behind her glasses. "Go take your new family home."

And with his new son tucked under one arm and the Martian he loved wrapped tightly in the other, that was exactly what he did.

###### Epilogue

While Charley looked around blankly, Vinnie came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Well?" he asked eagerly. "What do you think?"

Charley scanned the room they were standing in again. "It's a cave."

Vinnie started sniggering. "Of course it is--we're mice. You thought we lived in high-rises or something?"

"Yeah, but it's so...empty."

"Of course is it," Vinnie repeated, sounding a little exasperated now. "Nobody lives here. Well, not yet anyway. Come on, can't you picture it? A few rugs here, a couch over there..."

Her bookcases in the alcoves at the back. Bright curtains over the windows. Yes, Charley was picturing it now--picturing it clearly--but when it came down to it, it didn't really matter. As long as she had her son and her new husband with her, it didn't matter where they were. Twisting around, she wrapped her arms around Vinnie's neck and kissed him. "It's perfect," she murmured against his mouth. "Because it's ours."

"Really?" Vinnie asked eagerly.

"Really."

"Good, because it's all I can afford."

Laughing, Charley pushed him away. "Quit while you're ahead," she scolded.

As she turned around and faced the empty living room again, tiny footsteps came running down the adjoining hallway. His little face beaming, Vector scurried in to join them. He pointed a stubby finger behind him, eyes questioning. "Mine?"

Laughing again, Charley scooped him up and squeezed him tight. "Yes," she confirmed, "you have your very own room now. You're a big boy."

Vector looked pleased with this idea. "Ah-sum."

Chuckling, Vinnie reached over and ruffled the top of his head. "That's my boy," he declared with a happy sigh.

Charley looked at Vinnie for a moment--at how the feeling of fatherly love seemed to make his face glow--then handed their son to him. "Here, why don't you take him for a ride?" she offered.

"Really?" Vinnie asked in surprise. "Just the two of us? Don't you want to come, too?"

Smiling softly, Charley gave her head a shake. "Not this time. You two still have a lot of father/son bonding to catch up on."

For a moment her husband's smile matched hers--and then he was bursting with that childish excitement only he could exude as he all but ran for the door. "Can you guess what we're going to do?" he asked their son eagerly.

With a giggle, Vector exclaimed, "Wide fee!"

"Exactly!"

Laughing, Charley watched as Vinnie ran off to his bike, then turned back to look around their new home again, her hand drifting up to touch the stone hanging from her neck. It was kind of amazing, she thought, just how happy she felt right now. How safe. Just a short time ago she was waking up every morning to a sense of dread, to a fear of not knowing--or wanting to find out--just what the day held.

That feeling was gone. She was where she belonged now--where she had always belonged. Her heart felt full enough to burst as she absently touched the stone to her lips and thought about how she couldn't wait to see what tomorrow had in store for her.

Because she was home.

_~Fin~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, but there's plenty more tangents and a sequel on the way. It's worth mentioning that this is the first time in all my many years of fanwriting that I broke up a canon couple. The Major insisted.


End file.
